The Treads of Fate
by Avist Torch
Summary: A retelling of the original Advance Wars. On Wars World, the rules of war are different. Rare individuals known as Breakcoms are able to instantly relay info to their soldiers, and display superhuman combat abilities, making them a nation's most valuable assets... and perhaps a nation's greatest liabilities. LATEST CHAPTER - Venture Capital VI: Rolling Blackout
1. Prologue: Transitional Times

Disclaimer: Advance Wars and its characters are property of Nintendo and Intelligent Systems. I do not own Advance Wars or any of its characters.

My goal is writing this is to bring the world of Advance Wars to life, and specifically, to portray the story of the first Advance Wars in a new way. This story will mostly be told from the commanders' perspective, from the HQ; however, there will also be situations where a CO is fighting on the front lines, and even confrontations between the COs, their abilities used directly in combat with each other.

Tell me how I can improve my way of writing. I am new at this, so I need honest feedback better than anyone, eh? Better that I don't develop any bad habits early on.

This story was inspired by Advance Wars and by the anime Darker than Black.

* * *

**Prologue: Transitional Times**

**Cosmo Land**

_**Xavier's Valley, Edge of Orange Star territory**_

_**November 23rd, 11:30 PM**_

Cosmo Land had long been a continent stained by war. Ever since the soldiers of Orange Star, Blue Moon, Green Earth, and Yellow Comet first set foot on Cosmo Land's beautiful plains and lush green forests, all four nations lay claim to the continent and swore to take it for themselves. These days, though, tensions between the Four Great Powers of Wars World were beginning to calm down, even on Cosmo Land. It finally looked as though peace was becoming a reality...

On this particular day, though, it wouldn't be a good idea to tell that to the Orange Star soldiers in Cosmo Land, especially not those on the border with Blue Moon. The prospect of a lasting peace, after all, seemed far away when a neighboring country's soldiers were attacking without even a declaration of war.

Sixteen hours... that's all it took. In that time, the border between Orange Star and Blue Moon had become a land of fire and ruin, filled with bodies and ruined war machines, most sporting the Orange Star colors.

In this valley on the edge of Orange Star territory, only one location remained under their control: a single headquarters just beyond the border river. The Blue Moon forces had launched several attacks against the base, but the Orange Star forces had reorganized, and the invasion of the southern front was in danger of running out of steam.

At the front lines of the Blue Moon advance, an APC rocketed towards the Blue Moon headquarters across the river. This APC looked a lot different than the standard Blue Moon transport; it sported a powerful mounted cannon and an engine powerful enough to drive a heavy tank. As the transport arrived at the headquarters, a young Blue Moon captain and two guards came out to meet it.

Out of the transport stepped a tall, thin man with short silver hair, wearing an open black coat and a blue uniform beneath. At first, the captain looked hopeful; then, as he realized the man wasn't who he expected, he withdrew a little in fear, prompting the tall man to smile, ivory teeth that would have reflected the light of the moon if it had been visible through all the smoke. Realizing he was being intimidated, the captain straightened up angrily, then stared the man right in his black eyes.

"Captain Korchakov r-reporting. Whom do I have the pleasure of entertaining this evening? I was told to prepare for the arrival of CO-Colonel Grit."

"That cowboy slacker was ordered to a less important front. As for myself, there is no need for a failure such as you to know my name."

"Sir!" The captain's eyes flashed with displeasure at the man's smug drawl. "Allow me to explain! The enemy must have intercepted intelligence indicating a possible Blue Moon incursion, as the fort across the river has an enemy OF in command! Without sufficient firepower-"

"Excuses." The dark man scowled at Captain Korchakov. "Be thankful that CO-General Olaf does not approve of the practice of executing unfit officers... although of course, you will still have to answer to him."

"I'll answer to him when he arrives! You have no right to-"

"If I were you, I'd be careful what I wished for." The dark man beckoned towards the still-open APC. "He is here right now, Captain. Do you truly believe he would not like to see the fruit of his efforts personally?"

"I... I..." the captain mumbled, eyes widening with fear.

"Step aside, Captain. You are relieved of command in this theater. I will demonstrate to your men what should have been done hours ago."

With that, the tall man marched into the headquarters. Behind him, a new force of Blue Moon soldiers arrived; these ones had a very different demeanor about their group, a bearing of hardened killers. As the Captain gaped at these reinforcements, a second, decidedly plumper man stepped out of the Command APC, bringing a gasp from the Captain's mouth. "General... CO-General Olaf, sir."

The dark expression on the CO's face changed abruptly, from a gruff look into a knowing smile. "OF-Captain Vladi really put you through the grinder, did he?"

"CO-General Olaf..." The man, robbed of all his confidence, fell to his knees. "I am prepared to accept whatever consequences you may assign as a result of my failure in this sector."

"Get up." Olaf scowled down at Korchakov while he looked up in surprise. "It's a fact of war, boy. You win some battles, you lose some. Even I've had my fair share of blunders, many of them when I was just a boy like you."

"So... you mean..."

"Of course, nothing will absolve you of the consequences of this day. Some of your men died, didn't they?"

"CO-General..."

"It is of course important not to forget the weight of your duty. But for a junior officer going up against an experienced Orange Star OF, you did well enough, even with the advantage of surprise."

Korchakov got back to his feet and tried to wipe the dirt off his uniform, pulling back his hand in disgust when he saw it was muddy blood. Olaf smiled again. "Captain... return to your quarters and debrief your men. Then take a nice, long rest. Something tells me you could use it right now."

_He... he sees right through me. The skirmishes in Green Earth were nothing like this. If I hadn't hesitated so much here, then maybe..._

Olaf turned towards the frontline, staring up at the horizon. "It used to be even worse than this, Captain. 35 years ago... I was only a child back then, but even at my age I could tell that this world would never see a worse war. I'm sure you've seen the footage of it at the academy. Before the Houston Conventions were enacted to regulate warfare... before the invention of the miracle healing substance, Emeraldine... the military was practically guaranteed to be a fatal profession. It is truth when they say that the Great World War changed the course of history."

The captain knew the rest of the story. "And it's thanks to that war that Orange Star now holds this territory."

"Oho ho ho! Exactly, my boy." Olaf's demeanor changed abruptly to a fiery cheerfulness, an emotion that would be bizarre for anyone but a CO in such a bloody scene. "And that is why we must take back what rightfully belongs to us. We accomplished half of that goal 5 years ago, when we brought the Blue Moon nation back into being... and now, we will finish it with the destruction of Orange Star in Cosmo Land. The scorched earth here will be a testament to Orange Star's total defeat. They will never subjugate the people of Blue Moon ever again."

* * *

Every Orange Star HQ had the same standard layout, though different commanders would often modify them as needed. The plans called for a ten-story tower with five bunker levels housing the HQ's power systems, hardware to shield against satellite camera surveillance, and communications, command, and control equipment. First five floors, living quarters and medical staff. Sixth and seventh floors, logistics officers' command rooms. Eighth and ninth floor, support officers would conduct lower-level unit coordination. Finally, the top floor housed the main command room, where support officers would analyze and synchronize satellite feeds and third-floor reports to create a tactical overview for the unit's top commander to use in planning the next move.

Such an installation would normally be vulnerable – however, the tower's design had been perfected over the last 40 years, and it was sturdy enough to withstand a direct airstrike. This sturdiness made it staggeringly expensive to construct, so standard military procedure became to capture and convert rather than destroy.

The HQ across the river was under the command of an OF-Major known by his military codename Coral. Unknown to Blue Moon, it was simply coincidence that Coral had been on the border that day. It was thanks to him that this outpost had managed to survive for so long... but they were running out of supplies and the closest reinforcements were days away. The Blue Moon forces had broken through in the north, so the Orange Star army was highly disorganized. There was no escape for the soldiers here if they chose to remain.

"OF-Major Coral..." The lieutenant in charge of the base turned from his terminal to the youth staring out the window. Among the people in the room, Coral stood out completely – he was wearing street clothes, just a green sweater and jeans with only a gold star indicating his status. Even more striking was his age – any observer could tell that he wasn't a day over 16. Despite that, his demeanor gave off a strikingly unnatural feeling to anyone who looked at him.

"Heh... we really are in trouble, aren't we." Coral whirled around energetically, his blue eyes bright with excitement. "Tell me, Francis. How bad is it?"

"It's... we're detecting enemy Break-Commander... er, Breakcom signals on the Blue Moon frontlines."

"Darn. Well, our luck was bound to run out sooner or later. OF or CO?"

"There's at least one OF and one CO! And judging from recon photos... there's no mistaking it, sir. It's CO-General Olaf himself." The rest of the soldiers in the room shuddered, staring at the grinning Coral like he was some kind of inhuman specter.

"Pfeh... letting his OF do the dirty work, I see. Do we have a reading yet?"

"No, sir, and the enemy OF isn't contacting us. He's probably waiting for the Dark Spot to drift away from the area before he strikes. After all, we have the advantage if their satellites can't see anything; he won't be able to spot our units in the forests."

"That gives us less than a day, then." Coral turned his attention back to the window. "Tell me the greenhorns are gone by now, Francis."

"Sir... yes. Only our company remains to man the outpost. They took all the supplies you requested, sir. Blue Moon will not get their hands on any of the fort's equipment. ...OF-Major... sir, I really think you should-"

"And leave all of you here? No thanks. Besides, I can find my own way out when the HQ falls."

The lieutenant stood up abruptly. "With all due respect, OF-Major, it's suicide for you to remain here! Blue Moon will let us live if we surrender, as per the Houston Conventions, but you're an OF! If... if you can't escape from them..."

"Then we'll make sure that doesn't happen, eh?" Coral stared hard at something in the distance, then ran past the lieutenant, towards the HQ's stairs. "Anyways, I was wrong. They aren't waiting for the Dark Spot to leave... I can feel it. Man the control room for me, will you? I need to type out a letter real quick. When the battle begins, I'll activate my Command Network."

The lieutenant and the other officers in the room watched the OF-Major's retreating back as he descended the stairs. "Wait, sir... what about the Break Amplifier?" He gestured wildly at the chair surrounded by screens in the center of the room. "Your OF Power could..."

Coral turned his head, finally displaying a hint of sadness in his eyes. "We both know the battle won't be long enough for that."

* * *

_**River crossing**_

_**November 24th, 12:45 AM**_

Vladi's infantry ran through the woods, then set up positions nearby the river. In the last hours, his scouts had ascended a nearby hill to look beyond the river. Vladi, sitting atop the hill nearby the scouts' position, looked at the report on his portable terminal: 4 enemy infantry squads visible, 2 tank groups covering. Optimal crossing point... just east of the outpost, an area shallow enough for treaded vehicles to traverse. No doubt there were also artillery guarding the crossing, but he'd find that out in a few minutes.

The Dark Spots, as the military called them, were a form of electromagnetic interference caused by... well, Vladi didn't really care. The important thing was that no spy satellite yet developed could see through it. Without a Breakcom, it would be almost impossible to coordinate a large force, and rookie Breakcoms would often overrely on their Command Network under these conditions.

"OF-Captain. Infantry Platoon Alpha has reached the shallows. Enemy artillery have begun to shell, as expected."

The OF smiled knowingly, baring his sharpened teeth. "This is OF-Captain Vladi. Fall back from the crossing. Make it look as though the enemy has caught us off guard. And move the armor closer to the crossing."

_That should prime the enemy's reaction. And now..._

"Captain Sidorov. You will take strategic control starting now. I am activating the Command Network."

OF-Captain Vladi closed his eyes and spread out his senses, merging his awareness with his soldiers' consciousness'... spreading between his men an esoteric mindlink that only gifted individuals like himself could create.

* * *

_**Orange Star HQ**_

_**12:50 AM**_

"Lieutenant Halworth..." One of the room's other officers pointed to the monitors. "The enemy's moving towards the crossing! And the way they're maneuvering..."

"They're taking advantage of the Dark Spot by sticking to the forests... we can't see them any better than they can see us, and without our satellites..." The Lieutenant frowned. Something was nagging at the back of his mind... "Say, Coral's activated his Command Network, right?"

"Yes. He's entered the network trance... from his office."

"I see..." Lieutenant Halworth wished that Captain Lucas was still alive. After the Captain had died in the first assault, Halworth had been the only one remaining who was qualified to serve as an advisor. While COs had mastered the Command Network and no longer needed to focus all their attention into it, OF-level Breakcoms were not yet able to do that, and thus could not command and Network at the same time. Thus, they needed another officer – an advisor – to keep an eye on the battle from outside the network to catch anything they missed.

Usually, the advisor would be linked into the network at all times, but as a Lieutenant that wasn't normally under an OF's command, Halworth hadn't been trained to selectively filter the network's channels, and as such he had to stay out of it unless sending a message. Still, it was amazing what a Breakcom could do with the Network; senior COs could control even a whole division at a time. Halworth suspected that the Network utilized the brainpower of everyone connected; how else could anyone process all that information so fast?

"There's something funny about what these guys are doing... what about their artillery? Any indirects visible?"

The other officer turned back to him. "They're hiding in the forests. Our men are stuck guarding the crossing, so we're assuming they have rockets to push us out. The Dark Spot isn't going to clear for another six hours at least." Operationally, that meant 'never'.

Halworth sighed. "Where's that air support we were promised?"

"Uh..." The officer tabbed through some screens, then turned to stare out the window. "Command says that's a no-go."

"How's the cannon boys on ammo?"

"Got enough for four or five hours of shelling at the current pace, sir."

The Lieutenant looked back at the screens. "It is our duty to hold the enemy here. However, it's our commander's duty to survive. As one of Orange Star's few Breakcoms, doesn't he know that he's irreplaceable?"

"He does." The other man looked down. "He just doesn't care."

* * *

_**River Crossing**_

_**1:00 AM**_

Despite the light, sturdy feeling of the Command Network he was linked into, Lieutenant Richter felt nothing but the cold winter air as he waited at the crossing, just the same as the last few hours. He didn't think about the dwindling ammo situation, the possibility of an attack from the other side, or the near-certainty of all of them getting blown to hell by bombers once Blue Moon's patience ran out. He only knew it was his duty to hold the crossing until ordered to retreat.

The tanks were in position, stationed as makeshift artillery in the woods behind them. Proper mobile artillery were further back, behind the HQ area. Finally, Richter and the infantry were protected in a set of bunkers that would shrug off most indirect bombardment. As things were, the enemy couldn't get tanks across without leaving them vulnerable, and infantry in the river would be easy pickings for their machine guns.

All of that information – or at least, the info directly relevant to his squad – was available on his datapad. However, the Comnet was a far more efficient method; through it, he could access accurate information that was only limited by what his soldiers could perceive, and pass information to and receive commands near-instantly from the Breakcom generating the network. Also, that way there was no risk of the enemy accessing the data, unlike the datapad; while the PDA was outfitted with various security measures, such as only accepting input from the correct fingerprints, there were always ways around its protection.

As if whispered directly into his mind, information flowed from the Comnet: 'More hostiles passing waypoint B, as reported by advance spotters 1 and 3. Infantry, camo gear, perhaps three squads, unclear weapon ID, possible advance.' That professional tone had to be the advisor, not Coral. Richter picked up his IR binoculars; waypoint B was near the start of the crossing. Sure enough, he could see movement beyond the trees. He took a few seconds to take in what he saw; several other soldiers nearby did the same.

Richter focused on the Comnet, and sent back a message: 'Identified hostiles, now retreating from shore. Analysis: heavy weapons teams, deployable rocket launchers. Losing visual contact.'

A few seconds later, he heard sound of artillery in the distance. Command must have decided to shell the banks. Under the low drone of the pounding on the opposite bank, Richter again felt that empty silence that permeated Orange Star's side of the bank. All that his mind registered were the darkness in front of him. Nothing on the Comnet relevant to him for a while.

1:10 AM. Spotters in the woods away from the crossing reported sightings of vehicles on the other side. Richter didn't think too hard about it; it wasn't a part of his task.

A few more minutes passed. A flash on the other bank suddenly directed his attention; subsequent moments were accompanied by further light, as if a fire had been ignited in the forest.

'[Spotter 2] Enemy rocket fire across the bank! They've got a couple MRLS units over there!'

'[Coral] Sit tight. I'll find out the target.'

But Richter didn't have time to focus on that. He could see a shadow moving along the bank.

'[Advisor] Spotters 1 and 4 report further hostiles passing waypoint B. Armor moving into the river, one group of tanks, two more on the way, likely moving to firing position. Tank units, engage.'

Behind Richter, cannons thundered and shells flew. The water near the far bank rippled with the impact of near misses, and he saw one enemy tank take a hit to the front armor, shell glancing off the vehicle's sloped front.

* * *

On the far bank, OF-Captain Vladi stirred a little in his Comnet trance, ivory grin flashing in the darkness. His enemy had taken the bait.

* * *

As small, human-like shapes detached from the top of a flaming tank on Blue Moon's end of the crossing, Richter saw another set of flashes from the far bank. He could almost trace the enemy's rockets as they streaked across the sky-

_Don't get distracted, Lieutenant. _Nearby heavy weapons teams were firing at will, yelling orders as their weapons filled the air with smoke and noise. It vaguely occurred to Richter that he wouldn't have been able to understand their words even if there was no racket; only thoughts from the Comnet were intelligible in his current state of sleep deprivation.

And then the bunker shook, the *bang* of explosions sounding from beyond the trees. None of the soldiers in the bunker stopped what they were doing, but through the Comnet, Richter could tell something was very wrong.

'[Coral] Don't tell the squads just yet, but we may have lost our tank support.'

* * *

_**Orange Star HQ**_

_**1:18 AM**_

Back in the command room, Lieutenant Halworth had realized what that nagging feeling in his chest had been, a few seconds too late. On his display, the lights representing their tank units blinked. Damage reports appeared, showing that all but one had been destroyed, and the final one's cannon was inoperable. All that in two volleys of rockets; without a doubt, their foe had utilized his OF abilities. The man dropped to his knees. "Damn it! I... I..."

"Lieutenant!" The other officers turned, alarmed.

"That's his Comnet ability! The enemy OF or CO or whatever! His ability cuts through the fog in some way! That's why he attacked during the Dark Spot!"

With that, the room fell completely silent except for the storm of chatter emitting from the transceivers. There was no need for the officers to respond, as their OF was giving all the orders telepathically; however, the sense of hopelessness that filled the room left no doubt as to their real reason for their silence.

The lieutenant finished his descent to the floor. "I'm sorry, Coral... I've failed you..." He turned back to the console, and issued an order into the Comnet. 'All units, return to HQ. We... we have to defend the Major!'

* * *

"If we move back from the crossing, they move armor up, and it's checkmate for us." Richter scowled. _You have official authority here, Lieutenant Halworth, but you do not outrank me._

'[Halworth] You have your orders. Coral approves.'

A wave of weakness shot through Richter's body. 'Coral, do you approve or is this bullshit?'

'[Coral] I trust my Advisor's judgment, Rick. You should too.'

_He's not your advisor, just a stand-in stooge._ Richter didn't transmit that thought; instead, he followed orders and sent the retreat signal to the rest of his men, who stared at him in shock as he stormed out of the bunker.

Minutes passed in numb silence as the soldiers pulled back; from the ridge, there was no opportunity for their enemies in the river to fire on them. More rockets came at them; at first, they all went for the bunkers, but then they spread out and began to shell the area. Surprisingly, few Orange Star soldiers had fallen victim to this new bombardment by the time they reached the sandbags around the HQ. Richter vaguely wondered why their enemies could no longer fire on them accurately.

The final fifteen minutes of Lieutenant Richter's life passed in a blur. He gave orders to the defenders through the Comnet, directing them to set up behind cover and where their enemies would be coming from. As soon as the first tank emerged from the woods, though, all thought fled the Lieutenant's mind. He didn't even have time to remove his finger from his rifle's trigger before a high-explosive shell ended his sleepless torment.

* * *

_**1:50 AM**_

He could feel the pain. The pain of some lives being cut short, others losing consciousness, still others giving up hope and laying down their arms... it was as if he was losing limbs. But the pain didn't bother him. It never did until after the battle. It was just part of being one of them... being a Breakcom. He felt the panic of the soldiers like it was a dream... he'd heard of COs who could cancel the fear of their soldiers, or even drive them into a frenzy... but that wasn't him. And feeling all of his awareness cluster at one location, he knew it was the end.

And so OF-Major Coral awoke. He groped around the room a little, disoriented, then grabbed his communicator. "This... ugh... this is OF-Major Coral. I have deactivated the Command Network. Retreat into the fort and take the tunnels out of here. This is a direct order from your superior. Repeat, I am ordering you to redeploy to Fort Hartdale."

Coral pressed "Send" on the e-mail he had typed on his console, switched it off, then entered the command code for the HQ database's self-destruct mechanism. Blue Moon wouldn't be getting their hands on any of the information stored there.

"Retreat? That's crazy!" Halworth, fiesty as usual.

"That it is, Francis. But we have to admit, we've lost." Coral's voice was as irritatingly cheerful as it had been earlier that night.

"We knew that we'd lost when we started this battle, and yet we fought on anyways!"

"And what if the enemy OF comes here? I can tell by the way his soldiers fight... he'll kill as many of you as he needs to in order to get to me. I don't want to see that happen to you. Consider it my last request, okay?"

"You idiot!" Halworth jumped up. That had been the last thing he had wanted to hear... and a moment later, he heard something almost as bad.

_Click. _

The lieutenant blinked, then fell face down on the floor, a stun pistol held where his back had been. The other officers picked him up, then ran towards the garage on the other end of the HQ. One of the other lieutenants began directing the remaining infantry's movements as they fell back from the HQ.

* * *

_**1:56 AM**_

Vladi's infantry near the front lines felt their Command Network disengage. With that, the heightened sense of hearing they had been granted, like a form of sonar, disappeared. Several seconds later, Vladi's voice rang out from their communicators.

"This is OF-Captain Vladi. I am taking back direct and advisory command. Fortify positions around the HQ and pursue anyone daring to retreat or resist, but be aware that there is an enemy OF inside that HQ. He is my kill. Do not steal it from me unless he tries something stupid."

Vladi's infantry understood what that order meant, but also the common sense behind it. It was never a good idea for common soldiers to try and fight an OF directly. Of course, as Blue Moon soldiers, they would have no trouble winning the fight... but only at the expense of a quarter of their comrades, at least.

* * *

_**2:02 AM**_

The OF arrived at the HQ a few minutes later, dropped off by a Blue Moon transport copter. He climbed down the ladder, jumping off shortly before reaching the bottom. He brushed back his long black hair, then stood in front of the HQ. As if he had been waiting for Vladi, the man he wanted to see the most stepped out of the front door. The two of them stared at each other for a moment, tensing their bodies as they drew in an invisible energy that only a select group of people in the world could touch.

"Hah... I see. Covering your soldiers' retreat?" Vladi scoffed. "Valorous, but futile. Tell me your name, rat."

"They call me Coral. And you are?" The man grinned.

"I am Blue Moon OF-Captain Vladi. I am afraid your luck has run out today."

"As if." Coral leaned back a bit; Vladi straightened up in response. "Oh, relax. Still, I'm a bit impressed. We detected a full CO back there. I'm assuming it's Olaf, huh? I'm surprised you're risking yourself and not hiding behind him."

Vladi hissed. "CO-General Olaf has no need to trouble himself over a worm like you. Besides... you underestimate my abilities."

"Hah. Then come at me. If I get rid of you, maybe I'll have accomplished a third thing today."

Vladi stared at Coral, listening to the sound of his uniform ruffling in the wind. _OF Sidearm, modified to augment the bullets with the user's Break energy... and nowhere else on that lame outfit of his to hide a weapon. Well, nothing personal... Coral... but I'd like to add another notch to Impaler today. _

And then, in a flash, Coral wasn't there. Vladi head movement on his left, and rolled out of the way as Coral fired three shots towards him. _Hmph. Fast for a man called Coral._

As Vladi stood up, he reached into his coat with his left hand and pulled out a long-barreled gun, then fired a large stake towards Coral, who responded with a small hand signal, still grinning the whole time. The stake flew towards its target... and embedded itself in a hard shell that appeared in front of Coral.

"Coral Shield," stated the grinning CO, as if it explained everything.

Vladi gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes, his body glowing faintly as he sucked in more energy from the air around him.

"It can't be seen, and your ears aren't equipped to hear it," Vladi explained. "But with a pulse at the right frequency..."

_Anything will fall apart._

With that, he released from his hand a vibration... the music that he had heard from his enemy's shield. The distortion that would dissolve the shield's structure. The shell shuddered and crumbled into dust... but Coral was no longer there.

Vladi jumped and spun to the right, hearing Coral's motion from that side. Several bonelike knives flew past his arm, one grazing just above the elbow. Vladi grimaced... then grinned, smelling victory. His prey had just made the final mistake.

As Vladi turned, he held out his right arm and sent off a vibration slightly downwards, toward's his enemy's legs. A sharp pain went through Coral's knees, sending him falling backwards. Vladi continued to spin, moving both hands back to his Impaler and firing a stake towards Coral's body. Coral's eyes widened in surprise, and reflexively, he hardened his last line of defense, the field of Break Energy that surrounds every OF or CO-

-but it was useless. The stake crashed into the teenager's right side, and then through his ribcage, lung, and body. A soft but satisfying *crack* rang out, along with that gasp of pain that Vladi had come to love so much.

"You fools are all the same... you rely far too much on your sight, and then assume I do the same." Vladi bared his teeth again. "My Impaler III is a special model. The stakes within are composed of a highly expensive alloy designed to penetrate anything, especially a Breakcom's B-Field... and thanks to the poison within, not even Emeraldine can heal you now. Oh yes. There's something I should probably have told you earlier, while you were still in a state to appreciate it..."

As Coral struggled to breathe, Vladi held up a medal. "This was a Green Earth CO's badge. Yes, a CO. I have learned how to bridge the gap in power between them and I... and among the Blue Moon military I have become known as the CO Killer. Your badge will make an excellent addition to my collection."

"Hah..." Coral grinned, blood leaking from the corners of his mouth. "It looks like... you win."

That hadn't been the reaction the bloodthirsty man was looking for. Vladi reached down and grabbed one of the Coral Blades that his foe had thrown, then launched it at high speed into the OF's stomach, triggering a spurt of blood that still did not erase his adversary's stupid expression. "Why are you still smiling?" he hissed.

"Hah... it's who I am... asshole." Coral's eyes slowly closed.

"Damn you!" Vladi screeched, reaching down and yanking the downed OF's arm. "You aren't going to die until I've shown you what it means to suffer!"

"Fine... by me. 'Cause I'm not quite dead yet."

_What?_

All of a sudden, there was a flash of white light, and a spike of pain shot up Vladi's arm. The gaunt man screamed... then realized the pain was from a feeling of intense cold. In fact, a large cube of space in front of him had been frozen solid, including the unfortunate Coral. Unable to move, he looked around desperately-

"A little careless of you, wasn't it, Vladi?"

"Ge... General Olaf..." Vladi had many things he wanted to say, but he held his tongue. The icy anger in the CO-General's voice was enough of a warning.

"Now, what have I told you about playing with your food? Just look what you almost did."

"What are you-" Vladi turned his head back forwards, then gave a sudden start. Right in front of his face hung about twenty coral knives, all frozen within the block of ice that Olaf had created.

"Ah..." Vladi felt light-headed. "I apologize for being... hasty."

"Hah." Olaf snapped his fingers, and the ice melted, freeing Vladi's arm. "You might want to go to the medical bay and get that arm looked at, just in case. It may have been rapid, but extreme changes in temperature can still do some nasty things to the body."

As Vladi walked away cursing under his breath, Olaf looked down at the dead Coral, eyes ever-so-slightly downcast. "Hmph. Always so rash with that poison, Vladi... I wonder how much information we could have squeezed from that officer?"

* * *

_**Orange Star Cosmo Capital, Jefferson City**_

_**3:34 AM**_

In the heart of the Jefferson City was a hexagonal building with a twenty-story tower in the middle: the Jefferson Tower, headquarters of the Orange Star military in Cosmo Land. On the 3rd floor of the tower was the office of Orange Star's second-in-command and head of all Cosmo Land Operations: CO-General Catherine Sinclair, codename "Nell". Nell had been awake all night coordinating the response to Blue Moon's attack on both the military and civilian fronts, giving interviews and orders left and right. When she was finally able to return to her office, a giant pile of e-mails had been waiting, and she had spent the last couple of hours sorting through all of them.

Finally, she was almost at the end. She opened the next message; it was from the OF who had been guarding the border. Seeing that it was an encrypted e-mail rather than a message along the emergency command channels, she knew even before she opened it that it would be bad news.

Then she read the contents of the message... and wiped away a single tear before returning to work.

In cases like these, it was her responsibility to notify the family of the circumstances. Directly.

* * *

Just for fun, I've typed up some AW1-style dossiers for any OFs that may appear throughout the story. They are, of course, weaker than COs. These will appear at the end of the chapters about their battles.

**OF Coral**

Rank: Major

Affiliation: Orange Star

Skill: Attack power not as strong as a CO's. All units defend at least as well as on plains.

Power: CORAL SHIELD *****

All units defend as though they are atop mountains.

A cheerful OF in his teens. Cares deeply about his soldiers.

Hit: Blankets

Miss: Mornings

"Don't worry so much; it's bad for your health."

**OF Vladi**

Rank: Captain

Affiliation: Blue Moon

Skill: Hidden enemy units are treated as visible if they attacked last turn. Catastrophically weak defense.

Power: TOTAL DISTORTION ******

Enemy units within vision range take damage and cannot act next turn.

Bloodthirsty and cruel, none can hide from OF Vladi's enhanced hearing. Made a name for himself by killing a Green Earth CO in a duel.

Hit: Smoke

Miss: Mirrors

"Hah. Another one for my score."


	2. ACT I: Intermission: Unwelcome News

**Act I: Prelude to Counterattack**

**Intermission: Unwelcome News**

Of the areas remaining under Orange Star control in the Cosmo territory, the most vulnerable was the remote Alara region in the northeast. It was a week since the battles on the border. Blue Moon's forces had taken most of Alara, leaving only one base under Orange Star's control: the remote Golden Fortress in the region's mountains. It was there that a group of Orange Star soldiers waited and watched, wondering when the hammer would fall on them as well, yet unaware that their destiny and that of the continent would become intertwined...

* * *

**Golden Fortress: Cliffside Training Course**

**November 30th, 8:15 AM**

"Hup, men! One, two, three, four!" yelled Sergeant Frank Levins, scowling down at the line of forty recruits under his command. The morning's training session had gotten off to a rough, stumbling start; it was like Training Platoon Four was getting slower every day. Sergeant Levins suspected that they were losing hope, a thought which made the thick mountain fog seem even thicker.

Levins turned around and, right on cue, the line of soldiers stopped running up the slope. "Are you soldiers or are you maggots?" he roared. "Get your asses in gear! Run like the hounds of hell themselves are breathing right down your sorry, soggy buttholes! Do you think those Moonie bastards are gonna let you take a nature stroll right down the battlefield? WELL, DO YOU?"

That last statement was directed at a small, thin youth near the end of the line; Private David Carroll, the sorriest and soggiest of the bunch in Sergeant Levins' eyes. Carroll's thin green eyes flicked up at the Sergeant. "Sir, no, sir!"

"Exactly!" The Sergeant gave a hard stare to each recruit in the line. "The Blue Moon army has taken every Orange Star base from here to the Coral Fortress. We are the last line of defense in Alara! The final defenders of the Alara provincial capital, Green Springs! And need I remind you that if we fall, Blue Moon will have a DIRECT path to Jefferson City! Now, are we going to let the Moonies get their grubby hands on our people?"

"Sir, no, sir!"

"Are we going to let those bastards take ONE STEP beyond the pass?"

"Sir, never, sir!"

"And are what are we going to do when Blue Moon's goons show up at our doorstep?"

"We stomp 'em and kick 'em all the way back to their sorry turf, sir!"

Levins smiled bitterly. "I don't know about that. You all aren't being very convincing right now. How y'all plan to crush the Moonies if you can't even get your gear up a gentle slope like this? Don't tell me you're getting tired already!"

"Sir, no, sir!"

After the platoon returned from the mountain, Levins sent the recruits out to run laps around the base, then returned to his office in the main complex. When he was sure that none of the recruits could see his face, the fiery look in his eyes disappeared and his face contorted into a grimace. "Yeah, we'll torch the bastards alright... if they don't send an OF or CO up here. Then we're SOL for sure..."

* * *

**9:30 AM**

Following the physical portion, the recruits were hauled down to the base's outdoor firing range for target practice. Levins walked down the line, inspecting each of their weapons and calling out any flaws in their procedure.

"Dunsley! What time is it?"

The recruit jumped a little. "Um, 09... 1231 hours, mainland time, sir!"

"And here, that would be...?"

"Uh, 0931 hours, sir!"

"That's right. It's morning, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir!"

Levins leaned in close. "So why are ya all hunched over like a drowsy civvie? Straighten up like you've been nailed to a wall, assmaggot!"

As the recruit assumed the shape of a board, the Sergeant gnashed his teeth: it was freakin' week seven of ten, and these little boys and girls hadn't even learned to...

"Mind telling me where you've been stickin' that?" Levins yanked the rifle out of another recruit's hands. The young man reached out, but stopped himself, awarding him another mental eye-roll from the Sergeant.

"Look here, everyone! This is what happens when you give a rifle to a human turd!" _Okay, that one sucked, Levins_. _You're getting tired; back off a bit before they notice._ "Or else, would you mind explaining just how this here M16A3 assault rifle morphed into a filth magnet?"

The soldier looked from side to side. "Aliens, sir?"

The Sergeant put on his best green glare as he handed the gun back to the recruit. "Them aliens fix up your arms and eyes so you can shoot worth a damn?" Levins gave a signal, and the lanes of the firing range lit up with holographic targets (shaped like Blue Moon soldiers) and obstructions.

"And... fire!"

The inaccurate spray of weapons fire that followed this announcement did nothing to calm the Sergeant's nerves.

* * *

**9:50 AM**

Levins' next stop was the office of the base's commander, one Captain Flora Steele. It disturbed him that her face held hints of sleep loss; she was usually successful at hiding such things even from him. Based on that, he could tell that things were very bad indeed.

"Sergeant Levins reporting, sir!"

"At ease, Sergeant." The Captain's face barely moved as she opened her coffee mug. "I read your report about the newcomers."

"Yes..." Levins frowned. "They've got a ways to go. Blue Moon could attack within the next few days, and if that happens... there's no way in hell these little kiddoes will be ready by then. We need to transfer them back to the capital. They'll only get in the way as things are."

"While that may be true..." Captain Steele's grey eyes moved imperceptibly to the left. "We've received a communication from HQ. A Blue Moon CO has set up shop somewhere in the Dark Spots to the south and west. The region is crawling with artillery, rockets, and missiles. We have no safe way of transporting soldiers between here and... well, anywhere else in the country."

"In short, it's only a matter of time before they come for us, possibly from both sides."

"Not necessarily. They could decide that this place isn't worth hitting. Bottom line, the recruits are probably safer here than anywhere. Face it; there isn't a fort in our Cosmo territory Blue Moon couldn't attack if they wanted to right now." Steele leaned back in her chair. "I heard that CO-General Nell even called CO-Colonel Max back from the mainland. That means we've only got one real CO over there right now, and she's greener than the grass in San Monica. If Blue Moon's forces on the mainland decide to attack..."

Levins sighed. "Massacre. Even worse than the one we're about to get down here."

"Well." Steele downed the entire mug in one slurp, placed it on the growing pile of mugs on her desk, then pulled out another one from the desk drawer. "Such a move is unlikely anyways. Blue Moon's sent both their COs to Cosmo. I think that's as good an indication as any that they're going all-in here."

"Just who is their other CO, anyways? Only one I know of is Olaf, ever since old man Billy decided he'd had enough."

"Who knows. It's a state secret or something." Steele stared at Levins' forehead. "Any other questions? If not, let's relax a bit. Won't do us any good to worry."

Levins opened his mouth, then decided against speaking. The situation was truly beyond anything that either of them could do to fix it. All he could do was keep training the kids and hope Blue Moon would do something really, really stupid when they attack.

* * *

**5:25 PM**

Even with news of the war darkening the training platoon's spirits, Recruit David Carroll and the rest of the recruits were having a blast over dinner. The Sergeant was usually present to enforce discipline; when he wasn't, the recruits felt like prisoners who had been let on parole.

"Hah, did you see Sarge today? Looked like he was going to pop a vein, he did." That one was Recruit Gordon Tebowski, a fellow member of Training Squad 4; well, since that morning he was now "Turd," in honor of Sarge going easy on someone for once. Always talked big, that one, but send him out on the trail and he was the second one gasping for air. Bragging as usual, David saw. "I tell you, he don't have the look of a fighter in him. I tell you, when the Moonies come knockin' he'll be the first to bail."

David looked over in the corner. There were two more squadmates, Lois Cameron and Trent Brackett, playing poker with a bunch of others whose faces he couldn't remember. And next to him...

"Hey, Pits. Are you listening?" That naïve boy, John "Sticks" Marvin. He didn't even sound like his balls had dropped, 17 or not. David couldn't even see the kid in a support or repair role; out on the front lines, he was fresh meat.

Also, the idiot had coined that lame nickname everyone was now using for him. _Pits. Of all the..._

"Sorry. Turd's swagger kinda drowns out everything else in the room. What was that again?" David turned back to Sticks.

The boy's expression turned comically cross. "As I was saying, I have it on good authority that we're to be deployed to the front soon. And it makes sense; I mean, those Moonie bastards have most of this province already."

David sighed. "Come on, Sticks. We've still got three more weeks in basic training. They're not going to send us out onto the battlefield like this. I saw you on the physicals, man; you'd be a walking target out there."

"Oh, yeah, like you know any more than I do about it." Sticks looked at the ceiling. "Look, man. The Moonies are coming. You can tell Sarge ain't kidding about the whole 'last line' thing."

"Even if that's true, it doesn't matter. I know you're feeling like an ace with your high scores at the rifle range, but-"

"Come off it, Pits. That's not what I mean."

"Then can it. If you're really going to suggest they'd send us out like this, then-"

David stopped, realizing that his last few words had been the only ones audible in the hall at the time. He looked to the door and saw a lieutenant he didn't know.

"At ease, recruits." The lieutenant looked around the room. "Is there a David Carroll in here? There's an urgent message for you."

_What?_ "Recruit Carroll reporting." David stood up.

"Come with me, Recruit." The lieutenant's face gave no hints.

Amidst the whispers that began to echo around the hall (which were promptly silenced following a glare from the lieutenant), David left the room with the officer. Only then did the man's stone face soften into an expression somewhere between pity and despair, sending a cold spike of dread through David's heart.

"It's... a personal communication." With only those words, the officer led David deep into the fort, through security doors and hallways he had never even seen before. Finally, they reached the secure transceiver room at the fort's center, where the lieutenant left David in the middle of a room full of electronics, facing a massive video screen. The screen lit up with a face that confirmed David's fears: CO-General Nell, face neutral but eyes sad. There was only one reason why such an important official would contact a soldier like him.

"...General." David managed to croak out.

" Recruit David Carroll." Nell paused, then delivered the fateful words. "It is my sad duty to inform you that your brother, OF-Major Ralph Carroll, is missing in action. Due to the nature of his final message, it is highly likely that he is no longer with us."

* * *

**3 Hours Earlier**

**The Jefferson Tower**

The central conference room below the Jefferson Tower doubled as a bunker capable of withstanding even the strongest explosives Blue Moon could bring to bear. The complex had combat and living supplies capable of sustaining a siege of 250 individuals for several months, although Nell had always considered that to be an unnecessary expense; in this day and age, the need to utilize that capacity would mean Orange Star had already lost.

The massive conference table currently only held five individuals. The first three exuded gravity from both their solemn appearances and the masses of medals weighing down their chests.

The fourth and fifth each had a much lighter demeanor, yet were no less tense. One of these two was, of course, CO-General Nell. The other was a young woman wearing a decidedly unmilitary outfit: a short white top and green pants. Even in the crowded conference room, she held a large machine gun at her side, something that seemed to annoy the first three.

One of the them, a heavyset blond woman with sharp eyes, spoke evenly: "I see that CO-Colonel Max is running late... as usual."

Nell turned to the woman and gave a small smile. "Don't worry, General Carpenter. You have my assurances that he will be here within the next few minutes."

Another man, the youngest of the Generals, tapped his fingers once on the table. "Let's... I mean, I propose we begin the briefing without him, CO-General. The two of us know he won't be listening anyways."

The girl next to Nell frowned. She opened her mouth to speak, but Nell cut her off with a warning look, causing her to lean back in her seat with a scowl. "General Vance, I understand your impatience with the CO-Colonel. Rest assured, he will be reprimanded for his behavior, as I do agree that his disregard of protocol has crossed the line many times."

The third general, a thin-haired old man, now spoke up in his usual halting tones. "Then perhaps we can begin with the matter of our current command situation, CO-General? I am sure we can all agree that he would not care to give his input on that matter."

For once, Nell and her companion had to agree; Max had never cared for _those _kinds of details unless they were about him. "Very well, General Bernstein." Nell pressed a few buttons on the side of the desk. In response, the lights dimmed and a large holographic projector emerged from the center of the conference table. A list of dossiers appeared... and began to be crossed out one by one as the generals' mouths hung slightly open. Even the youth with Nell grimaced.

"Since the start of Blue Moon aggression a week ago, we have lost 5 OF-class officers to the enemy. On the bright side, all of our COs are safe and sound. We may even be able to add one more to that number, as there is one OF who has demonstrated CO capabilities. While he is currently only a Lieutenant in rank, he has been with us for over a year now and has already made significant progress in exploring his powers. In fact, he has reached the level he has faster any OF in Orange Star history."

"You would, of course, be referring to OF-Lieutenant... Andy." General Vance again.

"I am well aware of your past experiences with the lieutenant, General. And I do not mean to imply that he is necessarily deserving of a military promotion. However, he has without a doubt attained the capability to consistently activate his Command Network without entering a trance... which is the one of the two requirements for becoming a CO. All that remains is for him to pass the Advanced Tactical Aptitude Examination."

"Hmm..." General Bernstein looked up at Nell. "The promotion of a new CO in these troubled times would be reassuring to the people of Orange Star. Of course, that only applies if this CO is particularly successful."

"Which leads me to my second order of business." Nell glanced at her companion, who scowled back; she knew where this was going, and she didn't like it one bit.

Suddenly, a furious knocking sound emerged from the other side of the door, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Next came an indistinct yelling, then more pounding, and finally, the groan of metal against metal as the door was wrenched right open by a pair of large knuckles. This action drew glares from everyone in the room except for Nell, who merely giggled.

"Hey! Nell, Sami... General guys. Sorry I'm late. That stupid plastic-reader ate my card again." In strode a walking mountain of muscle, topped with blue hair at the peak. The man, who was unmistakably CO-Colonel Max, strolled into the room and dropped with a _thud_ into the chair between Nell and the Generals.

"Let's skip all the crap and get to the important stuff, okay? I wanna know how bad it is."

"Ah, Max, good timing." Nell smiled. "There was one other matter I wished to discuss before getting to that, but I think I'll tell it to the Generals afterwards."

The three Generals across the table looked surprised. If Nell was sidestepping the issue right now, that meant it would be something they'd like and the other COs wouldn't; something rare from her.

Nell pressed a few more buttons on the console, rearranging the lights in the center of the table into a map of Cosmo Land with various arrows, unit symbols, and annotations all over it. With the press of another button, an overlay with the colors orange and blue – mostly blue – appeared over the image, prompting a gasp from Max. "Are you kidding me?" he yelled. "Nell, tell me this is a joke!"

Nell's companion, Sami, kicked Max's leg, prompting a yelp of pain from the large man. "Like it or not, that's the situation. Nell, permission to give the full report?"

After the older CO nodded, Sami stepped in front of the console and called up some notes. "Blue Moon forces have penetrated deep into Orange Star territory. They have access to the capital area, but have only launched minor attacks so far, probing the city. However, it is likely that Blue Moon plans to launch their final attack within a week."

"Hm... it seems Blue Moon has missed their chance." General Carpenter displayed a narrow smile, her mouth thinner than a pencil line. "Their hesitation gave us time to prepare."

Nell shook her head. "Actually, in the simulations we ran, we expected Olaf's forces to head straight for the capital. It would be his style, you must admit. Unfortunately, he refrained from doing so, and as a result many units ended up doing nothing while Blue Moon took the outlying regions with little resistance."

Sami continued, "At the moment, there are only three strategic points still under the control of our forces. The Falcon Island headquarters has dealt heavy damage to Blue Moon's navy; as a result, most of the enemy navy has returned to Blue Moon for repairs. Additionally, Fort Halberd near the capital has repelled all enemy attacks thanks to CO-General Nell's leadership. Finally, the Golden Fortress in the Alara region is still under our control; although cut off from the capital, they actually haven't come under attack by Blue Moon at all."

"Hm..." General Bernstein looked thoughtful. "There really isn't anything of worth in the Alara region. I'm surprised Olaf even sent any units up there to begin with."

"Blue Moon's expedition up there is just a token force, under the command of an inexperienced OF," scoffed General Vance in that arrogant voice that Sami found so irritating. He then looked around the room as the others stared at him. "What, am I wrong?"

"No... you're quite correct. However..." Nell paused. "The Golden Fortress is one of our two training centers. There are very few combat-capable units in the area, and our most senior officer there is... special, but she's not an OF. A small force is all Blue Moon needs."

"Then what the hell are we waiting for?" Max stood up, propelling his chair back into the wall. "We've got to go break open a path and rescue them!"

Sami sighed, then glared at the human mountain. "Don't you get it, Max? That's exactly what they want us to try and do! It's obviously a trap."

Max glared back. "Don't act like I don't know that! But trap or no trap, we gotta do what we gotta do! Nell, permission to move out?"

Nell sighed. "Permission denied, Max. Rest assured, I have a plan to rescue the recruits, and possibly even retake the whole Alara region with a little bit of trickery. However, I need you and Sami elsewhere."

"Oh... fine. But this better work." Max slumped down into the nearest open seat.

"Here are your orders. Sami, I want you to take the Rangers behind enemy lines. I'll brief you personally on the circumstances. Max, take your division and launch a counterattack in the south. General Carpenter, you're in charge of Fort Halberd. General Bernstein, Falcon Island. General Vance, you will remain and assist me at the capital. I will brief each of you personally in six hours; until then, get some rest. Any questions?"

A nerve twitched in Sami's forehead: there she goes, sidestepping the elephant in the room as usual. "Ma'am." Nell shot her a piercing glance, but there was no stopping Sami now. "Wait. What about the Advisor program?"

"Whoa. What's that about the Advisor program?" Max joined Sami in staring.

Realizing that she couldn't put off the news until Max was out of earshot, Nell sighed, then dropped the bomb: "I've drafted plans to expand Orange Star's advisor program. One or more Special Advisors will be commissioned as assistants to active COs in the field, in addition to the advisors currently serving alongside our OF-class commanders."

"Wh... uh..." Max scratched his head. "Uh... Nell... c'mon, Nell! We... for me... for... WHAT?"

"I... also have to question the wisdom of this, Nell." Despite her measured words, Sami looked like a wildcat ready to tear someone's throat out.

Nell did not yield. "I understand that this is an issue of pride for you two, and I apologize if it comes across like I don't trust you. However, even a CO can only focus on a limited number of things at once. With an advisor to handle the strategic matters, you won't have to divide your attention between strategy and tactics."

"Nell... that's really not-" Sami began.

"AND- ...I want you to save your energy." Nell shot them a warning look, causing both to wither in their seats. "Blue Moon's OFs and COs have been drilled not only in command, but in personal combat as well. If it comes down to a one-on-one engagement between you and one of the Blue Moon COs, you'll need all the advantages you can get. I do **not** want to see one of you die that way."

"Nell..." Max's mouth was agape.

"Three of our OFs were already killed by the same man: the Blue Moon OF Vladi. I want you to be extra cautious when you encounter him as well; he's already killed one of Green Earth's COs a few years back. That's right, a full CO. And... I know this from experience, and you should too, Max. Blue Moon's CO-General Olaf... is not an opponent to be taken lightly. He's a failure when it comes to military tactics... but in terms of power, he has the most destructive capacity of perhaps any CO in Cosmo Land, and I can say from experience that he's far more savvy in a showdown than as a commander. So please... be careful."

"Ah..." Sami looked down and found her hands were shaking. "I... I promise, Commander Nell. I'll be careful."

"I guess you're right... thanks for caring. I won't do anything stupid." Max grinned sheepishly. "I'll... go get some rest."

"Thank you... Max. Sami. If one of you died..." Nell paused. "Well, let's not think about that."

Sami smiled slightly. "Besides, I have to stay alive long enough at least to greet the new CO."

"Whoa, we're getting a new CO? Who?" Max's energy returned in an instant.

"You'll meet him soon enough. It'll be a surprise." Nell beamed at Max. "So bear this whole advisor thing for a little while, okay? Besides, you'll still have the final say on things; they'll just be there to back you up."

"Well, when you put it that way... sure. I'll try it out." Max sighed, then turned to leave. "Well, see you in a few, Nell. And get some sleep."

"Sure." Nell smiled, then turned away, hiding her exhaustion from both the COs and the Generals.

* * *

**Alara Region – Lost Fortress**

**7:45 PM**

The Lost Fortress was never a large Orange Star post to begin with, so it had been easy prey for Blue Moon. Now, Blue Moon was massing at that location for the final attack against the Golden Fortress. The commander of that unit, a messy guy in winter gear called OF-Lieutenant Droma, stood on the command floor of the fortress' HQ tower, directing the combat engineers in cleaning out all of Orange Star's wrecked equipment and replacing it with fresh electronics capable of hooking up to Blue Moon's network. Droma was not a happy man; he hated dealing with the logistics before and after the battle. He usually left that to his advisor, but after the death of his last assistant, he had been unfortunate enough to have been assigned one who was as lazy as he was. Lieutenant Baich was working downstairs, but Droma could swear that the floors the Lieutenant supposedly finished work on looked no better than before he started.

Now, many fruitless attempts at micromanaging the cleanup had taken Droma's patience to its limit. The fools always got something wrong; couldn't they listen even for long enough to get it right the first time? Every time, he had to repeat himself or clean up after their stupid mistakes, and... well, can't they... can't they... "Can't you people work any faster?" he finally yelled, kicking a broken monitor across the room.

"OF-Lieutenant Droma... we're... we'll have everything hooked up in 3 hours. It's... the Orange Star dogs booby-trapped the wiring..." the unlucky leader of the team tried to explain.

"EXCUSES! I want no more excuses, I want action!" Droma's long, thick hair waved around, repeatedly covering and exposing a pair of narrow ice-blue eyes. "We're already behind schedule enough as it is, and we _don't_ want any trouble with the boss, you hear me?"

A few moments later, a buzzing noise issued from the OF's datapad, causing him to yelp. "I told you! Now look what you've done!" After a bit of fumbling, Droma activated the screen, revealing a young girl in full uniform, a pale face framed by long brown hair. Thankfully, her face looked indifferent, not displeased. Droma's expression instantly changed to a blatantly fake smile.

"Ah... OF-Colonel Sasha! What a pleasant surprise!"

The girl seemed unaffected by his rotting-molasses tone. "OF-Lieutenant Droma. How goes the cleanup?"

"I, er, well..." The officer gave an unconvincing chuckle. "We've run into a couple small difficulties, but rest assured, we're still on schedule. We'll be ready by the time the rest of the company arrives!"

"Very well. ...Lieutenant." Sasha's eyes narrowed.

"Yes, Colonel?"

"Do not launch the attack against the Golden Fortress until I give the order. CO-General Olaf has drafted a plan that must be followed to the letter. Is that clear?"

"Yes, yes... crystal clear, Colonel." Another involuntary chuckle issued from Droma's lips. Why was he so uncomfortable? Droma really couldn't tell.

A look of pain flashed briefly across the girl's face. "Droma, listen to me. Since your OF abilities appeared, you've... let yourself go. Don't forget, you aren't invulnerable, and you don't even have a firm grasp of the Command Network yet."

"Relax, babe. I'll be fine." His discomfort gone, Droma smirked inside at the frustration that rose to Sasha's face.

"...very well. But if something happens, don't say I didn't warn you."

And then she was gone, and Droma was alone again with his toy soldiers.


	3. Venture Capital I: Skirmishes

**Venture Capital I: Skirmishes**

**Golden Fortress, Training Barracks 3**

**November 30, 7:45 PM**

Orange Star's recruit barracks were divided by squad. Each training squad got their own room with five bunks; men and women were provided separate accommodations if requested, but usually, it wasn't a problem. At this moment, the room assigned to Training Platoon 3, Squad 4 was empty except for one man, Recruit David Carroll, who was sitting on his bunk and staring into space. In his hands were a printout from an e-mail: an excerpt from his brother's final message.

_I always knew it was going to end like this for you, Ralphie..._ was what he wanted to think, but that would just be a delusion. One part of him was still holding out hope that his brother was putting on some weird show to fool Blue Moon into thinking he was dead, because after all, CO-General Nell did say they never found a body, right?

"Just listen to yourself, David. You sound just like Sticks right now."

But he couldn't help it. The other half of him outright blamed the idiot for going along with this. When his brother had become a Breakcom, he'd changed... not completely, but subtly. It was as if he saw the world differently, and not in a good way. His father had told him that war does that kind of thing to people, but his brother had started acting strange far before the military met him... before he ran off without any tears in his eyes. Even that bastard's final message was so detached, so... accepting of his fate.

_Hey, David... it's all over for me now. You really didn't have to join the military just to come after me, you know? I hope you think about it a little... and get out if it's not really what you want. _

That's one thing that never changed... you always had the wrong idea about me. Mom and Dad served in the Orange Star military, too. Besides, I'm training to be with the Combat Engineers. I wasn't harboring any stupid dreams about talking you out of it or serving under you or anything...

_I doubt you'll want to hear about all the ways I might have died, and I really don't have time to explain it all anyways, if you know what I mean. Just please... don't cry for me. And tell Mom and Dad not to cry, too. Tell them to just remember me, okay? _

That's nonsense, you bastard. You were able to stop crying when your Break powers showed up. Don't tell other people to do the same like it's so damn simple.

_Well, who knows. If there's an afterlife, I'll see you there. If there isn't, then don't worry about it, or if you can't, then just tell yourself there's one. Just don't hold out hope that I'm still alive out there somewhere, because I'm not. Denial really doesn't suit you, David, and I don't want you to throw your life away because of it. _

Now you're lecturing me? Shut up. Wasn't I supposed to be the older brother?

You're a moron, Ralphie... such a goddamn moron...

A tear fell, and in a flash, the slideshow that had haunted him for the past few years returned unbidden to David Carroll's eyes. The scared eyes of his father, the soldiers in (black?) stomping along (his road, not theirs!), the gunfire, "Ralphie's missing!"

Against the backdrop of foggy hills, smoke, and broken machinery... a small, childlike silhouette atop a broken tank, crushed as though a giant fist had come down from heaven, David had thought. The figure turned around; it had the face of David's brother, but the eyes were wrong and the smile was all wrong. Ralphie didn't smile that way. He never had. It was fake, it _wasn't right_...

"Don't worry. It's safe now."

But David had known it hadn't been, and two weeks later, when the next wave of Blue Moon soldiers arrived and killed the man he had been named after, the men in black took Ralphie away

and now he'd never see him again.

* * *

**Fort Halberd**

**December 2, 10:00 AM**

Within the walls of Fort Halberd, a company of Orange Star soldiers massed for deployment. Their numbers included one platoon of infantry with ample APCs for transport, one recon team, two light armor platoons, and one artillery group. The unit's commander walked down the line of vehicles, leading an inspection of the equipment. He stood next to one of the light tanks, looking it over, and reaching out with his hand as though feeling his way through the mechanical component of the vehicle. He then opened his eyes and made a "thumbs-up" motion.

"All clear here! You're good to go!" he shouted.

The tank's commander smiled. "Yes, OF-Lieutenant, sir!"

The kid, OF-Lieutenant Andy, beamed back. "I'm glad to see you're always taking care of your tank, Sergeant. Keep up the good work!"

In the fort's HQ Tower, Nell stood looking down the scene through the surveillance cameras, with General Carpenter beside her. The General seemed blown away by what she saw. "Quite an unusual thing, isn't it?" Nell observed. "Usually, younger COs have a hard time gaining their soldiers' respect."

"Really?" The General raised one eyebrow. "I think it's just the people serving under him. I've noticed he gets along better with the enlisted men than he does with officers. What was his Break ability again, Nell?"

"Andy's good with machines. He's able to construct or repair anything mechanical in a flash if given the right materials, or even just out of Break Energy if necessary. His OF Power, which he's dubbed 'Hyper Repair', can fix practically anything. In fact, he can even use it to heal his soldiers' wounds."

Carpenter's eyes returned to the console, where Andy was now joking around with one of the infantrymen. "I can see why General Vance dislikes him. Andy doesn't look like a serious military type at all."

"Of course. He's only 15." Nell sighed. "I wish I understood just how Comnets and Break Energy work, but we COs can only describe it as something we feel."

The other woman didn't respond; the way she saw it, the less she knew about Breakcoms, the better. When she had been young, Breakcoms didn't exist, CO powers didn't exist, Comnets didn't exist, and Break energy was nothing but a riddle for the eggheads to knock away at.

Simpler times, those. "Back before the Great World War, they wouldn't have let a child out on the battlefield."

"He's not a child anymore. You and I both know that. He's a competent commander with a passion for mechanics." Nell stared out the window. "I hear that Blue Moon has even younger OFs than him."

"It's lunacy."

"You could say the whole world is insane these days. Just trust me when I say that when a person receives these abilities, we change a little bit. Just enough that we can't call ourselves naïve anymore."

"Not naïve? Pfeh. I might say that you people really look like you're having fun on the battlefield."

"We do. Do you despise me for that, Miriam?" Nell turned to the General and gave a small, creepy smile, prompting her to turn away slightly.

"It's not as though we enjoy killing, General. The battlefield is just where we're meant to be, that's all. It's hard to explain." Nell sighed. "I know you've always viewed us Breakcoms as monsters, General, and I doubt there's anything I can do to change your opinion. But there's a larger threat out there, and when it comes to threats to our nation's security, I'm on your side."

"True enough." The General forced a smile. "Well then, how exactly is this OF-Lieutenant supposed to sneak through Blue Moon's raiding battalions?"

"We'll lure them out, that's what." Nell took out her command console, bringing up a small map. "Andy's company will look for an opening while my forces attack to the east. With that, Andy will reinforce the Golden Fortress. They won't expect this from us, so they'll take the departure of our units as a signal to head for the capital while their forces in Alara try to capture the Golden Fortress. Thus, Andy's forces will be more than a match for whatever they send, and as for the capital... well, that's where General Vance comes in."

"I don't follow."

"While us COs can activate our Command Network without being in a trance, we don't have to. If I enter a Comnet trance and have General Vance act as advisor, I'll be able to generate a large enough Network that I can spread it between both the capital's defenders and the forces distracting the raiders. Meanwhile, Max and Sami will be launching their own counterattacks elsewhere, and General Bernstein will make sure Falcon Island doesn't fall in the meantime. If this works, we'll be able to take the initiative from Blue Moon."

"And if it fails?" General Carpenter started tapping the glass.

"If it fails, that means our forces on Cosmo Land are too weak, and Blue Moon would take the capital anyways, just like if we did nothing."

The General stayed silent for a minute, then looked back at the camera with Andy's company. She really hated rash actions like this, but... they couldn't afford to let Blue Moon have any advantages. As much as she disliked Nell, she had to admit the woman had more strategic sense than perhaps anyone else in the Orange Star military. "Just tell me where you want me, CO-General."

"You'll stay on watch here. They could try something funny and attack here instead, perhaps if they think we've left the base unguarded. If they go right for the capital, your forces will hit them from the side when they start to break."

"A good plan." General Miriam Carpenter sighed. Even if Nell's gambit succeeded, Blue Moon would be far from defeated. Still, it was a much better place to start than any of the ideas she'd had.

* * *

**HQ Tower, Post Foxtrot Alpha**

**East of Jefferson City**

**December 3, 2:28 PM**

"CO-Colonel Grit. We have incoming."

The layout of the command room of a Blue Moon HQ, aside from aesthetic differences, was much the same one of Orange Star's. There were banks of consoles manned by support officers, the various screens showing satellite images, abstractions of said images, and video feeds from the field. More notably, both HQ designs were centered around a large machine in the middle with a console, levers, and a large chair for a CO to command from. This machine, known as the Break Amplifier, had been the centerpoint of Wars World's military strategy since the Great World War, allowing the Breakcom to send energy through their Network in a surge known to the troops as a CO Power.

In the center of the chair sat a thin man in a yellow overcoat and cap. He was hunched over, seemingly concentrating on the screen. His Lieutenant knew better than that, though.

"Wake up, CO-Colonel. Our scouts report that at least two groups of enemy units, possibly more, are headed this way. CO-Colonel... just wake up."

"Right, right... heard ya the first time." The man straightened up and let out a big yawn. "And there ain't no need to be so formal like I been saying, Hadrian. Jus' call me Grit."

"Sir... please call me Lieutenant, or even Lieutenant Nyberg. It's better for my sanity."

"Sorry, Hadrian. I guess it's just not my style. You got a cool name, anyways." Grit blinked a couple times, then turned down to the console. "Well, I'll be... looks like Nelly's really goin' for it this time. I tried to warn the Boss she'd be this bold."

"What do you want me to do, CO-Colonel?"

"Tell Ol' Frosty Nell's taken the bait, but she's prob'ly got something up her sleeves. She always does."

"Right away, sir."

Grit looked down at the screen. _This don't look too good. We really don't got much in the way of artillery round these parts; it was all just a big bluff. I told Frosty that when Nell's cornered, she attacks, but..._

_Well, let's see here. We've got tanks and some infantry in the back, and some recon and infantry guarding the artillery in the woods. We've also got a rocket and some anti-air near the HQ. We may have to fall back and call up some units from east... then we might have a chance against these guys. _

_Of course, this is a Darkspot and all. It's possible that Nell really hasn't sent that many down here, and she's bluffing too. Well, guess there's only one way of findin' out. _

"Alright, Tank Groups 1 and 2. We've got a couple rowdies looking for trouble out west. Go and back up the big guns, but don't do anything foolish, you know? Don't want y'all getting bloodied up now." Grit switched frequencies. "Field recon, pull back a little. Try not to let 'em see you. Stay inside artillery range so they can cover you if y' need to run. Right, then; I'll take command now."

The gunslinger then activated his Command Network, smiling at the unmistakable rush of hundreds of minds linking to his.

* * *

**Jefferson Tower**

**December 3, 4:00 PM**

General Vance scowled down at the console, watching the feeds from the different units as they were all compiled into one abstraction on his monitors. He looked over at the Break Amplifier, where Nell sat in a trance. Next to him, Colonel Kristoph adjusted the image on the monitor, noting where things seemed out of place and confirming any potential discrepancies with each unit. Vance was connected to Nell's Command Network for advising and monitoring purposes, but he'd adjusted the connection to filter out any communication not related to initial contact. He was more used to using the transceivers and the satellite overviews to command.

Right now, though, there wasn't really much to do. The General turned to Kristoph. "Colonel. What's your take on this whole to-do?"

"I think luck's with us today, sir." The Colonel was displaying an uncharacteristic lack of discipline; after all, he was finally going to get to see CO-General Nell's powers in action! A little tact would have been wise around the General, though.

"Bah, luck." General Vance scowled in Nell's general direction. "I have no intention of relying on a power I know nothing of. Now, Colonel! What is your assessment, under the assumption that nothing out of the ordinary happens? That of course includes the CO-General's assistance of ANY kind."

"Alright, sir... recon units report movement throughout the Darkspot. Additionally, aerial scouts have spotted artillery units moving this way from deeper in occupied territory." Colonel Kristoph's eyes widened. "Wait, you don't mean..."

"Excellent." A fierce smile came to the General's face. "We can't be too hasty now, but I do believe it would be good to speed things along a little. After all, we've caught 'em with their pants down."

* * *

**4:30 PM**

Half an hour later, a spot lit up on the General's screen, accompanied by a pulse in the Comnet. "Damn. Contact so soon?"

A communication through the Comnet: '[4th Tank Platoon] Taking artillery fire, unable to determine source.'

"So it's begun." General Vance looked up at the screen, then blinked in surprise. 'Lieutenant, your unit's current status?'

'Surface damage to one vehicle. We're still alive and kicking, sir. They're not letting up, though.'

"What." General Vance blinked a little. 'Alright. Continue the advance if possible. Colonel Kristoph will pinpoint possible artillery locations.' The General sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Hell, I wish I had some bombers..." Of course, Nell had given a direct order not to risk any air units here. The General had to admit it was a massive risk to deploy bombers in a Darkspot – any aircraft lost to hidden missile units here would be a bomber that would never defend the capital – but it felt like he was being asked to blind-charge into a minefield.

"This is Colonel Kristoph. I've calculated possible artillery positions, and... this can't be right."

"What is it, Colonel?" On the monitor, several infantry markers moved up through the forests. Red flashing spots marking artillery impact kept appearing; General Vance was surprised they hadn't taken any losses yet. _Is this Nell's doing?_

"We've searched all possible locations. No success in locating the enemy artillery, sir."

"What?" The General scratched his chin. "Is it possible they've moved?"

"Not that quickly, General... unless they're under the command of a specialist CO. Expanding search area..."

Suddenly, the screen lit up with about 3 times as many markers, and the Comnet came to life with chatter, much of it relevant to the General's needs.

'[3rd Infantry Platoon] Taking fire! Enemy sniper units hidden somewhere in the hills! Trying to pinpoint a location-'

'[Artillery B] Falling back, we can't get a good firing position with this rain of-'

'[4th Tanks] We've lost 2 vehicles! All units retreating-'

'[2nd Tanks] Confirming enemy sniper location, marked on battle map! Counterfire...

'[Scout Squad] Spot 1... 2 infantry squads retreating into the woods. They don't appear to have heavy weapons.'

The Colonel scribbled something down on his notepad. "General. It seems like the enemy has made their first move in the north. Our southern force is still taking only token artillery fire."

The General grimaced. "Blast! Nell was right. This isn't Olaf at all. Why, it's... it's more like..." The man's eyes widened. "No. That can't be."

"General?"

"Colonel. Expand all search ranges for artillery locations by one operational unit."

"Sir? Wh-what... what are you talking about?"

Vance ignored the man's blabbering. _It can't be... but I can't rule it out. _Vance looked over at Nell, whose face was started to show signs of worry... or sadness? _To be safe, I'll say it is. She certainly seems to think so, after all. Or maybe these freaks don't need to be on the same Comnet to talk telepathically? _

"Colonel, instruct our northern force to advance from cover. We have to stop these cowards from moving so our southern forces can find out what the devil is going on here."

"Uh... understood, General."

* * *

**HQ Tower, Post Foxtrot Alpha**

**4:34 PM**

Grit frowned as he used his Comnet to check through the status of each of his soldiers. _Good... we've emerged relatively unscathed. No permanent deaths so far. Of course, knowing Nell, it's probably not too different on her end. This is just the opening. _"Yeah, it's a big group of 'em alright. Hadrian, go tell the Boss that she's moving out alright. We won't be able to hold longer than a couple days at this rate, so now's as good a time as any to dangle the bait."

"Yes, sir." Stress lines were again appearing on the Lieutenant's face. "Sir... should I submit a request for additional reinforcements?"

"Frosty's not gonna give us none, but if it'll put your mind at ease, go 'n do so."

"...that's very reassuring, sir."

"Sorry. Always had trouble with the people side of things." Grit leaned even further back in his command chair, staring at a gauge on the side of his monitor. "Hmm... I reckon we'll have to pull back a little further still. Don't want all our hardware getting trashed before I have a chance to use this..."

* * *

**Alara Region – Lost Fortress**

**4:40 PM**

Droma was groaning in the bathroom, wondering vaguely whether the source of his pain had been the steak or the milk, when the call arrived. "This is Sasha. The authorization to attack has been granted. I trust your units are ready to move at a moment's notice?"

"Could you please shut up for a bit? This really freakin' hurts." A symphony of neurons cried out their unwelcome message as Droma pinched his skin, trying to block the throbbing pain with something sharper.

"Is this a bad time? I can have Lieutenant Baich handle the offensive if you are... incapable."

He couldn't tell what that look was; all he knew was that he didn't like it.

"NO! I'm fine, so shut your filthy hole!"

A small gasp issued from the other end of the transceiver. When the voice came back, it returned almost as cold as CO-General Olaf's ice. "...OF-Lieutenant Droma. This is your final warning. Continued insubordination will result in your termination from the Blue Moon army. I know what you're going to say. I'm starting to think recommending you was a mistake, OF-Lieutenant."

"I..." An unfamiliar emotion flashed through Droma. Was it fear? Regret? He didn't know; all he knew was that he wanted it to go away. "I apologize. Just give me a couple minutes and I'll be ready to move. With a... cautionary approach pattern, we should be ready to attack within 4 hours."

"Good. See to it that you do not fail me." Any trace of sympathy that might have been in Sasha's voice was gone. "And if you do, don't even bother coming back."

"S... sure." Droma turned off the transceiver, wishing his stomach still hurt so that it could distract him from the lingering emotions of that conversation.

* * *

**Blue Moon Territory – Castle Lyod**

**4:41 PM**

With the conversation over, Sasha slumped over in her seat, quietly sobbing. Unlike herself, Droma had been so different before he'd become a Breakcom... but now, even thinking about him would tarnish the memories they'd created together before any of this had happened. After a few minutes, she straightened up and wiped away the tears. There was no time for this right now.

"...it's always hard, my dear... but sometimes a person just can't handle the change, and something snaps inside."

Sasha looked down at the transceiver. "CO-General Olaf... you heard the conversation. Do I have permission to remove OF-Lieutenant Droma from command?"

"Not yet. I want you to head down to his position and stand ready to take over if anything goes wrong, though." Olaf looked annoyed. "Doing it now would only mess up the assault, and he might go rogue if he suspects anything, so we'd have to take proper... precautions."

Sasha slumped over in the large command chair. "I... see. I apologize, CO-General. If it weren't for my recommendation-"

"Nah. Lots of OFs start like Droma, but they settle down after a while. You really can't tell the problem cases right away, so you have nothing to be ashamed of. Besides..." The CO-General's gruff face twisted into a toothy smile that was probably meant to be reassuring. "I know how strong the pull of a good memory is. You didn't do anything wrong, Sasha."

Sasha smiled sadly. "Very well, then; I'll begin my report. Only a couple Orange Star reconnaissance aircraft have passed into Blue Moon territory today. However, our Coast Guard units have spotted two Green Earth cruisers moving around the western edge of the continent. Attempts to contact them have met with silence."

"Green Earth? Huh..." Olaf scratched under his beard. "Keep an eye on them, but don't make any aggressive moves. I doubt they're here for us, but raise the alert level in the regions they're passing, just in case."

"Yes, sir. That's all for now."

"Well done, Sasha. I wish more of our officers displayed your professionalism. Be prepared to move out in an hour; I have prepared transportation for you and a Spetsnaz platoon in case you need backup. OF-Major Petrine will take command at the castle." The CO-General's picture disappeared from the console.

Sasha stood up, looking around the room. Castle Lyod was, in many ways, the headquarters of Blue Moon operations on Cosmo Land. The room she stood in was the Personal Command Chamber; it was usually reserved for Olaf's use, but while he was off in Orange Star, she had been left in command of home defense. Unlike most command rooms, all the support officers were only in contact through the terminals; she was alone in the stone room with the Amplifier and the other instruments. CO-General Olaf always said that solitude helped him focus; Sasha was usually the same way, but right now, given the circumstances...

...she could use a snack. And a big drink, if she could sneak one in.

* * *

**HQ Tower, Post Foxtrot Alpha**

**6:40 PM**

In the last few hours, relatively little direct combat had taken place. Grit's artillery and rockets had shelled the advancing Orange Star forces, but there were very few confirmed hits and in the end, Grit's forces had to pull back even further. Damage had been done, but Orange Star was barely even staggered. Grit's face was as impassive as ever, but inside he was a bit surprised. _Good old Nell... your powers have gotten even stronger since I last saw you. Wouldn't surprise me if there wasn't even a single death on your end today due to "luck"_.

Lieutenant Nyberg turned to the command chair. "CO-Colonel Grit. Northern enemy units have ended their advance and are rotating out with reserves. The southern force is moving north to join them. Additionally, the enemy Command Network has been disengaged. I'll handle the first shift of night operations, sir; you can make your reports, then get some sleep."

Grit sighed. "It ain't going too well on our end. Our men are mostly safe, but we've done nothing but give up ground to the enemy."

"Not really, sir. Orange Star's southern forces are acting far more cautious than they should be right now."

"That's true. We've destroyed a good amount of their hardware, that's for sure. Still, the fact that they even got within firing range of our rockets to begin with... worries me. They could take the HQ tomorrow if we don't do somethin'."

"Well, you don't need to worry about them reaching us while you're asleep, sir. Lieutenant Krokov and I will see to that."

"Got it. As usual, wake me if the enemy's Comnet goes back up." Grit gave a signal over the transceiver, then a few seconds later, pulled back from his own Comnet, his perception returning to normal. "Hey, when did Frosty say he was going to start the attack on the capital again?"

The lieutenant punched a couple buttons on his console. "The attack starts at dawn. He'll want you to be awake and aware by then, so get some sleep, sir. And not just a nap."

"Heh. Keep up the good work, Hadrian. Good night."

"...sir." The lieutenant groaned. "It's Lieutenant Nyberg. And good night. ...I assume you're saving your trump card for tomorrow?"

Grit looked at the Break Amplifier's screen, noting that a large gauge on the side was almost completely filled. "Heh... well I'll be. I had no idea we were that close already."

"We could probably pull one off now. The enemy CO has disengaged, so-"

Grit sighed. "Don't really feel like it right now, Hadrian. Besides, the Houston Conventions put more restrictions on COs than OFs when it comes to powers. Remember?"

"I mean, if you pushed forward and got them to reengage first, then..." The lieutenant trailed off as Grit gave him a hard stare. "...I apologize, sir. I was out of line."

"Heh. Sometimes, I have to wonder which of the two of us is a CO." With that strange line, CO-Colonel Grit got out of his command chair and retired to his bedroom, already looking forward to the wonderful dreams that would come that night.

* * *

**Jefferson Tower**

**6:45 PM**

"So we've basically accomplished nothing today." General Vance made no effort to hide his annoyance.

"That's not true, General." Nell yawned and stretched rather unprofessionally. "Due to my supervision, we've minimized personnel losses. We've also determined that the enemy forces are small, but highly organized, and we have a good estimate as to the enemy's troop composition. We just need to be careful; there's now no doubt that Olaf will make his advance on the capital in the next three days, maybe sooner."

"That CO in command... that was Grit." The General scowled. "Filthy traitor. I thought he disappeared years ago."

"From us, yes. I assume he's been doing work for Blue Moon for a while now, though."

"Hmph. Just goes to show you can't trust a single one of them." The General left the implications of that statement unspoken, but several officers around the room looked up, shocked.

"General Vance... you're playing with fire here. Just thought I should warn you." Nell's eyes flashed. All of a sudden, the man's pistol went flying upwards out of its holster. As his eyes widened in shock, the gun discharged, sending its payload of hot lead flying at high speed towards him. As Colonel Kristoph screamed, the bullet from Vance's gun fragmented into four pieces, each flying just past the side of the General's face.

"Let me make one thing clear to you, General. My loyalty is to Orange Star, and Orange Star alone. I would appreciate if you would not question that." The woman's eyes were like steel; the General felt like her gaze was suffocating him. "It is true that the enemy CO and I have had a history together. However, I do not let such things interfere with my duty. Do you understand?"

The General hissed. It was true: if she really was a traitor, she'd already have massacred all of High Command. Nell had been the first CO to make it this far up the ladder; it surprised him that _any _Breakcom was allowed to become a theatre commander after what had happened with Olaf. Also, Grit was a sore issue to her; the unscrupulous General made a mental note of this. "Very well. I apologize for... implying such things. You have a distinguished, almost flawless record in Orange Star, after all."

The tension in the room did not decrease even slightly. Nell smiled, but the effect was more threatening than reassuring. "I'm going to go and prepare for tomorrow; I have to discuss strategy with the junior officers, and so do you. Notify me if anything happens."

And so Nell and the General left the room, both brooding over the same issue... but for different reasons.

* * *

**Alara Region**

**8:05 PM**

Droma scowled as the mountain winds blew his neck-length hair out of place for the third time. He finally gave up on fixing it, instead grasping his binoculars and returning his attention to the small military complex below. _So this is the Golden Fortress, is it? How quaint. Compared to the last few, this should be child's play._ He smiled, licked his lips, then spoke three sentences into his transceiver:

"OF-Lieutenant Droma here. All units in position. We are ready to begin the attack."


	4. Gold Rush I: Awakening

**Gold Rush I: Awakening**

**Golden Fortress, Main Living Complex**

**December 3, 8:30 PM**

Recruit David Carroll, aka Pits, walked wordlessly down the corridors of the base, feeling refreshed from the shower he had taken moments before. Ever since he got the news, he had started taking an extra session at weight room every evening. With him walked Recruit Trent Brackett – the only person he had told about what had happened. Sticks wouldn't understand, and the others had kept away from the issue out of courtesy or disinterest.

The weight room... no, the training was starting to make him feel alive again. The burn in his arms and legs... across his lungs and heart, the struggle against that feeling _it would not dominate him_ and forward into the next moment-

It helped him forget. And Brackett – no, he'd recently been rebranded "Wreck" by the squad – Wreck made sure not to remind him as well. They were just two buddies coming back from the weight room. Nobody was trying to forget nothing. And that was how it was. With only one more week left before their field exam, David was relieved that he felt up to the task again.

With the high that David had from the exercise, Wreck was the first to notice. "Hey... Pits, look. The Captain's actually... _out_. As in, not in her office."

David looked over across the hall, and sure enough, there she was – Captain Steele. David had only seen the Captain a couple times: the first was when she had addressed the recruits upon their arrival at the Golden Fortress. During the speech, he'd had to remind himself repeatedly that this was a human being he was watching, not a highly advanced robot imitating one. For one thing, all of her mannerisms seemed more tightly controlled than even the most wooden actor he'd seen. He kept a count of the number of times he'd caught her blinking during the speech – hell, he could tally that on one hand.

Seeing the Captain talking with an officer in the hallway, she didn't seem any different than she had up on the podium. Just like before, rigid, intimidating, and robotic; the officer seemed pretty nervous too. The two of them caught a brief snippet of the last thing the officer said as he and the Captain entered the conference room.

"-ready as always, but... I assume there was a reason you didn't page me about this?"

As the recruits passed by, Wreck shuddered a little. "Yikes. If the Moonies come knocking, the Captain could kill 'em all just by staring at 'em." David couldn't help but agree. The strange event bounced around the two recruits' minds, distracting them from noticing that the hallways were more or less deserted aside from the two of them.

The officer, Lieutenant Jeremiah Volke from Engineering, entered the conference room and gave a small start as he noticed that every other command officer and most of the Sergeants on the base were now seated there. The Captain's eyes bored into him as he stared around the room; he hastily found a seat and lowered himself in it so as to escape her gaze.

"Good. We're all here now." The Captain's lips turned slightly upwards. "I've specifically called you here individually to ensure that the soldiers don't get wind of this... yet. We have planning to do beforehand."

Without waiting for any of the officers in the room to speak, Captain Steele pushed a couple buttons on the desk and brought up a screen with a field of symbols. "A reinforcement company under the command of an OF-Lieutenant has been dispatched to relieve us, ETA unknown. I will be frank with you; there are no guarantees that they will arrive safely and complete. Additionally, our scouts have reported a movement of Blue Moon forces towards the base, under the command of an enemy OF."

The silence in the room after those words reflected well the quiet resignation and resolve with which the base's senior staff received this news. Lieutenant Volke, along with a couple junior officers, had a completely different reason behind their silence. The Captain glanced briefly around the room, one calculated look per person, then continued. "I have sent your assignments to your datapad consoles. The brief battle plan is as follows: the training staff, along with the Special Operations squads, will lead an evacuation of all training platoons towards the vector of the relief company. I will update you as long as possible on the company's status and any necessary deviations. The rest of the staff will prepare for battle."

"The worst possible battle conditions: Blue Moon intercepts the relief company. The enemy OF is experienced, with a large force of units. Blue Moon's forces are waiting in the Dark Spot between the Golden Fortress and the capital even though our scouts do not report movement within 15 miles of the base. Under these conditions, we will pull back from the fortress and take advantage of the disorganization visited on the Blue Moon forces by the relief company. The objective will change to a retreat to the capital for all units."

"The best possible battle conditions: The relief company arrives intact. In this case, the recruits will return to the base and the relief company will act as reserves during the base's defense. Are there any questions?"

Lieutenant Volke, fighting down the mix of anticipation and fear in his gut, left his question unvoiced for a second, hoping that another officer would speak his thoughts for him. His wish was granted shortly, as a young, pretty officer across the room spoke up: "Captain Steele. Do we have any intelligence on the approaching Blue Moon forces?"

"Any updates will be sent to your terminal. Any other questions?" The Captain left the answer implied; she struck Volke as the type that never wasted time speaking more words than she felt necessary. Another person, this time a Sergeant that Volke recognized as in charge of the training platoon, stood. "No questions. I recommend the end of this meeting. We have no time to waste."

"Agreed." The Captain paused and looked around, her eyes resting first on Volke, then on the young lieutenant who had spoken earlier. "I understand that some officers present in this room have never been involved in true combat operations. Do your best to carry out your duties regardless. If all goes well, I will see you on the other side." With that, the Captain removed her portable terminal from the system and left the room in discussion with that Sergeant. Lieutenant Volke narrowed his eyes, watching the scene; then, as his worries and hopes overtook him, he left the room to prepare for his first real battle.

* * *

"Captain. It's happening?" Sergeant Levins glared at the lieutenant who had spoken up earlier as he noticed trying her to listen in; she shrunk back, confirming his worries. "What the hell are we going to do with all the new meat? I mean, even our officers..." He quickly glanced over to the young woman, then at Volke. "These little boys and girls are supposed to be officers? How the hell... " He couldn't force the words out; the edges of his vision were like a kaleidoscope. He took a moment and steadied himself, breathing in and out rhythmically.

"We go to battle with what we have. That's all there is to it." The Captain's face betrayed no contradiction to those words, but Levins knew her well enough to know she was also not happy with the arrangements. And yet, she never even showed a hint of panic. Her way of dealing with this kind of pressure was much different than anything Levins had seen before... except from COs, of course. Then again, if the Captain had Breakcom potential, there's no way the military wouldn't know about it. After noticing what a ridiculous possibility he had just entertained, the Sergeant mentally hit himself; he'd seen that kind of wishful thinking get soldiers killed before, and now he was doing it too.

Levins looked down at his terminal; the training platoon was to depart in one hour. With that deadline in mind, he headed for the motor pool, mentally checking off the things that needed to be done before he woke the kids up.

* * *

**Training Barracks 3**

**8:00 PM**

"Alright, you maggots! Yes, that's right, get up! The lot of you!" Those words weren't something that Recruit David Carroll expected to hear at this hour. He rolled around and saw the rest of his squad looking just as bewildered. The voice over the PA system continued: "Training Platoon 3! Get your crap together and haul your butts to the west motor pool in the next fifteen minutes!"

"We're moving out?" Sticks blinked. "Wait, what? This late?"

"What's wrong, Sticks?" Turd's mouth became unnaturally wide, trembling like he'd overdosed on some black-market stimulant. "We ARE supposed to be on call at any time, after all."

Of the group, only Wreck was getting his stuff into his bag. "C'mon, guys. Shut up and pack." Seeing this, the rest of them followed his lead.

"Hey, hey, Pits. Don't we still have two more weeks in Basic?"

David sighed. "Stuff it before I do it for you, Sticks." He noticed that Far was already packed and standing at the door; he guessed she had kept it all in her bag just for cases like this.

The PA system crackled back to life just as David put the rest of his belongings in the bag. Without waiting for the next barrage of admonitions from Sarge, he and the rest of the squad rushed out of their room and down the hallways. David could see several other squads already in motion, heading down the wooden halls in the same general direction.

"West motor pool? Isn't that away from the enemy?" Turd looked around at them.

"That's about right. Don't pretend you don't get what's going on here." David tried to ignore the jackhammer pounding away at his chest.

"Damn." The young recruit snapped his eyes back up, and fell silent. The silence persisted the entire trip to the motor pool. David's eyes continued rolling around, sizing up the rest of the recruits that joined them in their march. It wasn't as though the blank grey walls of the tunnel he had just entered held anything interesting to distract him with.

At the end of the hall and through the double-doors, the familiar buzz-cut head of Sergeant Levins came into view. As they approached, the Sergeant handed Turd a scrap of paper and waved the group towards a vehicle at the far end of the structure that had always reminded David of a parking lot. In the midst of his worry, David could see for the first time the bottom of a tattoo sticking out from under his rolled-up sleeve.

"Huh... Alpha 7. That's near the back." The four recruits ran through the crowd of men with uniforms and wrenches, arriving soon at a vehicle near the wall.

David had never been one for the look of the Orange Star APC. It was a boxy vehicle somewhat resembling the mutant offspring of a civilian SUV and a cinder brick. Scratch that... this one looked more like a crossbreed with a well-loved stuffed animal, metal patches and all. It didn't even have a mounted machine gun. The rest of the squad had similar reactions, but none as extreme as Wreck, who looked like a fisherman who had just caught a tire.

"What the... is this..." The shocked soldier just couldn't keep it in. "Have they been using the same damn cars since they built this place?"

Still, the four of them piled into the vehicle, breathing in the stench of rusting armor and dried blood. A few moments later, another four recruits piled into the vehicle behind them, dropping down on their seats with a loud *thunk* from the equipment on their backs.

To David's right sat a wrinkled, but not exactly old man, who took one look at them and scrunched up his grey face even further. "Recruits? You can call me Lieutenant Lockburr. I will give the orders from here on out."

From the front of the vehicle came a voice: "Everyone in? Alright now. I'm Private Hudson, and I'll be your driver for today. Double-check your safeties and hold tight to your seats, ladies and gentlemen; we don't want anyone getting hurt before the action starts."

The APC's transceiver crackled to life. "This is Sergeant Levins. APCs move out according to the standard order. Light Armor 2 will lead. Recon 3 will tail. Recon 6 is already scouting our path. Good luck and don't stuff up the channels; things could get nasty."

Sticks started to open his mouth, but fell silent after a glance from the Lieutenant. One wordless minute later, the engine powering the old military vehicle coughed a couple times, then chugged to life.

Minute after minute passed as the old APC swayed and rattled. Sticks tried to stand up, but Lieutenant Lockburr gave him a sharp glance. "Recruit Marvin. It is against safety protocol for an untrained soldier's head to leave the safety of the vehicle... unless you consider a stray bullet to be the perfect snack."

Sticks slumped back down in his seat. David could hear the chatter from the driver's area, but nothing intelligible. He knew that it would be considered against protocol to sleep under these circumstances, but he didn't see much else to do. Besides, how likely was it that anything was going to happen?

...oh, right. For all he knew, the Moonies had set up a big welcome party for their favorite enemies, and the group of them was headed right for it.

* * *

**Golden Fortress Command Center**

**8:25 PM**

"Captain Steele. All training squads are away. Enemy units have been spotted along the expected approach vectors. There appears to be at least one armored company in the group, but no artillery. Captain... that's a lot of mech infantry."

The Captain tapped the table once. "Well. They'll hit us along the east wall, probably send some scout teams to look for alternate approaches. I'd expect mortar teams to try and soften us up. We don't expect any aircraft in the area, but they may send a couple B-Copters. We have one armored platoon ready, along with several commando units, but only static anti-air at the base. Lieutenant Volke, have you completed the check on the base's artillery weapons?"

The lieutenant saluted stiffly. "Captain, sir! All four corner emplacements are fully checked and ready for both anti-air and anti-armor targeting."

"Good. That gives us something they don't have. They can't fire their mortars without getting in range." The Captain's eyes narrowed. "Return to your position and keep us posted, lieutenant."

As the lieutenant jumped and bounded out of the room, Captain Steele turned to the transceiver. "All platoon leaders. The enemy will be upon us soon. I have uploaded the enemy's force composition to your datapads. Expect heavy weapons, but likely direct-combat units only."

"Our battle plan is to hold the line at the fortifications outside the east wall. 1st Platoon mans the bunkers in front of the base. 2nd Platoon will provide sharpshooter support from atop the walls. Prevent the enemy from breaching our defensive walls; defend the artillery at all costs. I will update you on the enemy OF when intel becomes available. Good luck."

* * *

**Alara Region, Droma's Company 1st Platoon**

**8:40 PM**

Lieutenant Nemorov had served under two other OFs in the past. Of the three of them, he felt that Droma ranked in the middle, but that was only because his previous commander's Comnet was perhaps the most awful thing he had experienced in his 9 years in the Blue Moon military. OF-Lieutenant Droma's Network, in contrast, felt dangerous – but even more dangerous to his enemies. Nemorov could feel the power in his hands. He also observed that feeling with caution; Droma's Network tended to make the soldiers unstable, bloodthirsty. It was up to Nemorov to keep his head and make sure he got his platoon through this.

Nemorov hadn't survived for so long without developing a few tricks. For one thing, he had figured out how to detach his mind from the network enough that he didn't get caught up in the whole emotional _oneness_ of it too much; with an OF like Droma, giving in to such feelings would get him killed. At the same time, he had to remain connected enough to respond automatically to his superior's orders. All this while the bullets fly. All in a day's work.

A cue from the Network told him that the enemy was up ahead. Nemorov sent cues through the Network, and his platoon responded, taking their positions inside the forest. Another cue told him that rear elements had prepared their mortars and would be ready to fire soon. He could hear the pounding of the base's artillery guns; from satellite images, there were at least four, one at each corner of the base, but there could be more inside. Most of the enemy's visible forces were infantry, concentrated in bunkers just outside the east walls, but there appeared to be some to the north and south in case anyone was stupid enough to try to attack from the exposed slopes on the sides of the base.

All in all, there appeared to be less than eighty soldiers in the bunkers defending the base. Of course, Nemorov reminded himself, there could be more of them inside the complex.

The sound of the mortars firing sent a chilling wave of pleasure through the Command Network. The lieutenant shivered; he would never be used to the kind of bloodlust that Droma's Comnet was made of. Still, it was better than the what the Orange Star soldiers – known among the infantry as Bowlheads for their distinctive helmets – inside the base faced; without a Breakcom in command, they were sitting ducks. Nemorov wondered how messy war had been before Breakcoms had first emerged. How could anyone conduct war under such conditions? The logistics, the communications... all the little details would be such a mess.

And of course, there were other perks too... Nemorov smiled as the mortars fell, his face displaying the look of a magician's assistant eagerly awaiting the audience's reaction to his troupe's opening trick.

Captain Steele could tell immediately that something was wrong. Even under the withering fire of the artillery, the enemy infantry still did not emerge from the forest; satellite images showed that they had set up to shell the base with mortars. When a group under the command of an OF does something counterintuitive, that usually meant they were setting up a situation that worked in favor of the OF's command ability. In her experience, OFs weren't usually clever enough to hide their abilities.

The Captain knew she couldn't afford to be rash, though. She would see what the enemy was planning when their mortars went off; doing something drastic now would only weaken her position.

So she observed the effects of the first barrage on the line of defenders. As the shells hit the ground around the fortress' bunkers, she did not see anything out of the ordinary at first. As more shells landed, she started to notice something odd...

"This is Captain Steele. Do you observe anything unusual from the mortars?"

"1st Platoon leader, r-reporting. Uh... no, sir..."

"2nd Platoon leader. N-not that I know..."

"Armored 1. Our armor's not taking these things well. No breaches, but there are some strange dents we're getting from the shrapnel. Permission to pull back into the base?"

"Permission granted... for now." Steele switched to the full intercom. "All units. Be aware that the enemy OF's command ability has been identified. Expect extra penetrance from any shrapnel or other metal debris; the enemy OF may be able to affect its properties to an unknown degree."

_That's one unknown factor dealt with. _Steele felt that in small-unit battles, OFs were at no special advantage... aside from their OF power, that is. She hoped that the battle would be short enough that the enemy OF wouldn't have a chance to use it, but with an aggressive ability like that, she figured he would try to take the Golden Fortress himself if his men failed. That would prove to be quite a problem unless the relief company pulled through.

And several minutes later, when the enemy switched to smoke shells, she knew the attack was imminent.

* * *

**9:30 PM**

_It's time. _Amidst the twin roars of the mortars and the fortress' artillery, Lieutenant Nemorov and his squad followed the rest of the platoon as they advanced forward, charging across the plains through the smoke. He could see several soldiers fall along the way, but the majority of his men made it to the ditch that had been dug by the company's first volley of mortars. Normally, low-yield weapons like that barely carried enough power to scatter the dirt, but Droma's abilities allowed the mortars to punch a shallow trench near the enemy's four bunkers. It had been Nemorov's idea, but he'd made Droma think he came up with it. Victory came first; the credit for it was of lesser importance.

Nemorov could hear the pounding of the enemy's machine guns, but it didn't concern him. In a few minutes, the smoke had cleared enough that he could make out the enemy's bunkers ahead. With a signal, each platoon's heavy weapons specialists prepared the rocket-propelled grenades, and aimed for the gunports...

One deafening moment passed, and then Nemorov looked up to see the results. Most of the RPGs had missed the gunports, but they had managed to destroy all of the bunkers' mounted machine guns, and possibly injure the defenders inside.

All they had needed to do was cause a little bit of havoc, after all. The tanks that were moving up now would handle the rest. Nemorov and his men crawled southward to avoid getting in the way of the tanks, as shells flew overhead and hit the bunkers in a shower of concrete and superheated metal.

* * *

**10:05 PM**

"What the-"

The world around David Carroll rocked around like some kind of carnival ride, snapping him out of his trance. He jerked his head up abruptly and turned to the source of the voice; the driver was struggling with the controls. That didn't look very good. And what that rattling noise on the-

A scream from Sticks let David know he wasn't the only recruit who had spaced out. Colors danced in front of his eyes as a small nagging voice in his head suggested that maybe, just maybe, that rattling might be the sound of bullets striking the vehicle he was now riding in.

_Oh... oh, oh... shit. Oh god, oh god... _No no not how I go no coffin on wheels what hell I doing here can't even shoot oh god

"Hang on! We're punching it!" The rattling of the world grew even more pronounced, but it didn't feel like the APC was going any faster. Even the Lieutenant was starting to look a little blue in the face.

And then, everything jerked sideways and disappeared in a bright light, then darkness. A sea of noise and motion blocked David's senses for a while, with small points of pain as punctuation. When things started to make sense again, he felt the odd sensation of being pulled by his arms through a hole that felt too small.

"Ah..." David moaned. Everything, all of the universe was spinning around him.

"His head smacked right into the hull, Lieutenant, I don't know-"

"Dammit, drag the guy with us if you have to. Get the hell into the gas station before they fire again. The Sergeant's group is running interference but- and what do you think you're doing over there, Recruit! Do you like the idea of being shot that much, damn it?"

"Sir, the enemy-"

"If that's a yes, then go out there and end your misery. If you want to live, then get your thick head down!"

A few moments later, David felt himself fall; whoever was carrying him had put him down. He opened his eyes, watching strange, blurry, bright shapes move around above him. As his vision refocused, he realized they were a cracked ceiling and several tube-shaped fluorescent lights, and he was lying on a tile floor with strange, loud noises going off around him. A face that he recognized as Wreck's came down from the top of his vision; some of the tension in the face disappeared, and then the face withdrew from David's vision.

"Hey! He's awake! Pits is awake!"

"Good. Keep your head down, Recruit; we've got work to do." As David got up, Lieutenant Lockburr walked over to him. "The Moons were waiting for us. We're in a Dark Spot so we don't know the size of the enemy, but Command confirms there is no OF in charge. Get with your squad, Recruit; there's an armored company on the way under the command of one of ours. Remember your training and don't do anything stupid; these are the moments that make or break a man." With a hard slap on the back, the Lieutenant moved on to another recovering recruit. David half-squatted, half-ran over to the gas station convenience store's large, broken front windows, where his squad kneeled behind a thick concrete wall, Far looking through a pair of binoculars at the trees across the highway.

David scoped out the gas station; there were about seven recruits covering the front windows, as well as an eight-man squad of commandos; their presence eased the pressure on David's chest a little. One APC sat in the middle of the highway abandoned, smoke emerging from the front, and a second sat on the side of the gas station with a soldier manning the gunport.

The sounds he had heard earlier, which he now knew to be the sounds of gunfire, no longer filled the air. He moved up and joined the rest of his squad, relieved to see that Far, Turd, Wreck, and Sticks were there.

"How's it look?"

Sticks jumped a little, while Far and Wreck didn't even turn around; only Turd answered. "As screwed up as before. It's real luck that the five of us made it out unharmed so far. You see the other recruits over there? Their APC broke down after just a few bullets bounced off. We've got company out there in the woods – bastards just stopped shooting at us for some reason. I don't like it. We don't even have any mortars or nothin', just our rifles, a rocket launcher and a couple MGs." Turd beckoned to the mounted gun he was at.

"Movement, 11'o clock, beyond the treeline. No signal." In response to Far's words, Turd squeezed off a couple rounds on the MG, filling the room with noise.

"Uh, what's the signal?" David didn't know why, but he felt compelled to keep the conversation going.

"They'll contact us by comm, or if they can't, they'll pop a blue flare. Funny, huh?"

David set his rifle down against the wall, shaking. How the hell could those two be so calm right now? As he'd expected, Wreck was silent but tense and Sticks looked like he'd all but crapped himself, but Far looked more or less calm, and Turd's quivering looked more like... excitement? This wasn't what he'd expected at all.

And that moment,

"GET DOWN!"

He couldn't tell whose voice it was. All he knew was that a split second before the voice rang out, the sound of impending danger filled his ears, and his body dropped to the floor as a hail of bullets hit the wall, engraving their deadly message around him and the others.

He couldn't stand up and shoot. His vision blurred as the wall in front of him shattered; he rolled unconsciously to the side, and then everything descended into a cloud of chaos. In the midst of the confusion, he heard a deep growl, then a scream; he recognized it as Turd's voice. His roll had brought him to where Far had been, but now she had retreated behind an overturned shelf with a scoped rifle. He didn't dare to look towards the other squads.

David crawled across the ground, barely daring to look up. When he did look back at the broken wall, he still saw nothing but smoke and trees. _Hah... you're kidding. How can we fight something we can't even see? _Turd was still at the wall, firing away... and David saw Sticks cowering in the corner. At that moment, it hit him: they were all going to die here if nothing changed. Turd, Sticks, Far, Wreck... and himself. The thought warmed him a bit; perhaps if he died here, he'd be able to see Ralphie again...

...but if he went like this, he really couldn't face Ralphie, could he?

It felt as though the air had gone silent around him. He could feel the fear, but it didn't bother him anymore. If he was going to die here, he sure as hell wasn't going to go cowering like that. Maybe if he was lucky, he'd be able to take a few Moonies with him.

And so Recruit David Carroll turned around, took aim at the trees... and opened fire.

* * *

**Golden Fortress Command Center**

**10:22 PM**

"Captain Steele. The front line has completely fallen. We've managed to disable most of the enemy tanks, but their infantry are through the wall and in the base, and our armored platoon is down."

"Damn. And we've lost the two eastern batteries, too..." The Captain flicked her cigarette, then looked down at her command console. "And the bunker squads?"

"None of them are responding anymore, sir."

"Hm... this isn't good. But now..." Captain Steele looked around the room at her support staff. "Now they're on our turf. They've managed to stagger us, yes. But our duty is to defend this fortress. We haven't lost until they've taken this Command Center. I intend to stop them long before that."

* * *

**Blue Moon Forward HQ**

A temporary HQ had been established near the fortress, complete with a Break Amplifier. The entire setup consisted of several tents, monitors, and a large, noisy generator, all within a hillside cave Blue Moon scouts had located near the Golden Fortress. In the Amplifier sat OF-Lieutenant Droma, somehow looking tense even in the midst of the Comnet trance. In fact, his body trembled, almost in pain. Next to him, scrolling electronically through several casualty reports, sat a man who despite his layers of fat looked capable of wrestling a bear into submission: this was the Lieutenant Baich that Droma despised so much. At this moment, he did not look very happy with his current position.

This was because of the simple fact that OF-Lieutenant Droma was not supposed to be using the Break Amplifier. He had not been judged stable enough or skilled enough to control his OF Power. The Lieutenant didn't even know what Droma's amplified power could do, but he knew it would be fruitless to try and stop the OF-Lieutenant; if he tried to bypass him and call OF-Colonel Sasha like he was supposed to do in a case like this, he probably wouldn't survive. Droma was vengeful and Baich wasn't exactly the best at running or hiding.

Of course, there was always the third option: kill the bastard while he was distracted. _Yeah, let's pretend I could do that._ _Still, he looks so vulnerable right now... maybe if I wait for my chance..._

_Because, well, let's be honest: this clown really is going to get us all killed if he keeps this up. I've never seen what happens if you botch a Power, but it doesn't sound good..._


	5. Gold Rush II: Ripples

**Gold Rush II: Ripples**

**Continental Highway 72**

**Abandoned Roadside Gas Station**

**December 3, 10:25 PM**

It was as if the world itself sped up, turning into a blur of motion and sound. He could tell where walls and his fellow soldiers were, but with a different sense than sight. In the midst of it, David Carroll could see strange red lines, kind of like a security laser from an old spy or heist movie. He didn't pay attention to the lines at first – really, it felt as though his body was just moving on its own – but later, in the middle of reloading, he vaguely noticed a line wander across another soldier's chest, then upwards a little. In a moment, the soldier jerked several times, and then slumped forwards. Rather than being horrified, David's mind took a note: don't let the lines touch you.

As he returned to his position, his mind noticed that he really was seeing something out of the ordinary. He could use that information to his advantage, couldn't he? I mean, if those lines lead to an enemy soldier's vision – or the barrel of their gun – then if he followed them, couldn't he see where the enemy was?

In fact, there were lines, blue ones, coming from the guns of the soldiers around him, too... and his as well. So if he used the lines to aim his shots, then...?

* * *

**Golden Fortress Main Complex**

**10:56 PM**

In many cases, a nighttime assault would be fraught with problems. With such low visibility, friendly fire incidents were very common. However, the Golden Fortress' main complex was a fortified military compound; there were no windows. The only sources of light were artificial, and those had been ordered shut down by Captain Steele. Orange Star's infantry were equipped with night vision goggles, so they didn't have that problem.

Of course, neither did Lieutenant Nemorov's troops. They had brought their own goggles as well, and thanks to the Command Network, they didn't have any trouble knowing each other's locations, and could instantly relay enemy locations to each other. Nemorov presumed that the enemy commander had given the order to prevent the soldiers being staggered when the lights inevitably went out. If that was true, that meant the Bowlheads expected them to disable or destroy the base's main generator... which would usually have been cause for a retreat. The fact that they hadn't done so told Nemorov that his enemy still had a few tricks up their sleeves.

Blue Moon soldiers had begun to spread out through the base in groups of two squads each, covering opposite directions so they wouldn't get caught by surprise if a hidden Bowlhead squad hit them from behind. Through the Command Network, the soldiers were slowly constructing a map of the base, although it was fuzzier than Nemorov was used to. Through all this, Nemorov deduced that OF-Lieutenant Droma was quite a new officer; everything he had done thus far was according to Blue Moon military protocol (or had been Nemorov's idea), none of it accomplished through his own creativity.

Nemorov's platoon had been tasked with leading the charge into the main complex. Upon entering, his squads had split up and were scouring the complex – so far, only light resistance. Most of his squads had taken some casualties – the wounded had returned to the camp. Blue Moon squads were trained to continue operating even at half capacity anyways. If Nemorov was in command, he would have surrounded the base and shelled it until the enemy was forced to come out... and if they didn't, he would let them starve. However, apparently Droma's superior had ordered him to capture the base, so it seemed they were forced onto this risky endeavor.

As Nemorov continued leading his squads through the base, slowly and meticulously checking every open door, he began to feel uneasy. The Bowlheads had not seen fit to booby-trap these levels of the base. That could only mean they were confident of holding their position – or they had designed the base so that they could bring the whole thing down at will. Additionally, Nemorov slowly became aware of a "swelling" within the Command Network – a sort of pressure that made his head hurt if he tried to observe it. Normally, this kind of pressure signified that the OF's Break levels were readying for a release through the Amplifier – however, this felt different, more unstable. The bad feeling within Nemorov swelled to a crescendo as the floorboards opened up, exposing heads, hands, and rifles punctuated by orange uniforms. Only his experience gave him enough warning to dive around the corner in time, pulling a surprised comrade after him.

**Blue Moon Forward HQ**

**10:59 PM**

'Lieutenant Baich. Several Orange Star ambushes around the base. The bastards were waiting for us.'

"Hm." The one that Droma had disparaged as a slacker had a streak of ruthlessness in battle, but he knew that the soldiers needed a little bit of warning about Droma's instability. He responded through the network: 'It's going to explode out of him soon. Just hold tight and slaughter the pigs until it comes. Although...'

Baich heard a moan issue from next to him, prompting him to take action. 'Break the hell out of the Comnet now! That's an order!'

As the sound grew in volume, the lieutenant quickly followed his own advice and disengaged. Droma was still young, barely capable of controlling his energies and certainly not capable of releasing power properly like this, and yet he still insisted on building it up. The lieutenant didn't know why; all he knew was that Droma was about to break yet another one of the restrictions placed on him by releasing his OF Power.

Right as that thought passed through Baich's mind, the moan turned into a loud, broken scream as blood spurted from the OF's mouth, then transitioned into a hoarse laughter. "Hah... you think you can make a fool of me? Know your place, you Orange Star pigs! Bear witness to the power granted only to us, the Breakcoms, the gods among men!"

As Baich steadied himself, the screen shattered and the cave shook. For an instant, a darkness seemed to rend space itself, and the world folded around him; then, chunks of the cave's ceiling came down.

* * *

Nemorov kicked aside the body of one of the Bowlhead ambushers, then fired a couple more shots around the corner, just for suppression. He glanced over his shoulder, then retreated into the darkened room after his squad; the layout looked like some kind of command center or boardroom of some kind, featuring a large, oblong donut-like table in the center of the room. The gunfire outside didn't let up, but that wasn't important right now. "You boys okay?" he asked. The five of them nodded. Five... damn. He had felt the light disappear over the Comnet, but even so... it never felt fully real until his second-in-command, Sergeant Vdovin, confirmed it. "Private Bezmel... didn't make it, sir."

Nemorov gritted his teeth. "...right. We're moving into cover here. This table will serve us well for that." Besides, the throbbing was still growing. He briefly considered detaching from the Comnet, but Droma's power had allowed the Company's grenades to break through any cover the Bowlhead bastards tried to hide behind. Heh, how much worse will it be for those goons without any cover to-

'Break the hell out of the Comnet now!'

_What?_ Nemorov heard the order, but didn't understand. Then, it all came together as a flash of light blinded him and he felt a sensation not unlike a set of knives piercing his forehead in the midst of a migraine. Nemorov dropped from the Comnet just in time, flopping to the floor helplessly as the screams of his soldiers rang through his ears.

Some of the screams he could hear were from the Bowlheads outside. That fact did not comfort him.

And then the ripple moved through the base, bringing with it a second wave of pain.

* * *

**Continental Highway 72**

**Abandoned Gas Station**

**10:31 PM**

Aim for the red line. Shoot, shoot, duck, shoot. Reload, but only while everyone else is shooting. Get away from there, it's a grenade. Get down, you idiot, you'll get shot like that.

David Carroll pushed one of his squadmates down before a few bullets ripped where he or she had been; he couldn't tell who it was in the fog. He got back to work shooting.

Aim for the red line. Shoot again. The fog is clearing, hurry. The red lines are disappearing one by one. Now they're disappearing all at once. Are they dead, or merely retreating? Not sure. I...

David Carroll fell to his knees as the fog cleared from his mind. He became vaguely aware of the yelling around him, the screaming, the sobbing, the orders... the orders are to stay here. Is that a good idea? I... I...

"Recruit Carroll! Are you okay? Recruit Carroll!" A hand roughly grabbed him from behind; David had a brief mental flash of throwing his attacker forward over his shoulder, but his body refused to move; he slowly became aware of his exhaustion. He was hyperventilating. It felt... bad.

The hands turned him around. He saw a blurry, skull-like _thing_ floating in front of him. "Recruit Carroll. Your status? Recruit?"

"Wha... whahappen?" David's mouth refused to budge.

"Very well; never mind." The hands dropped David to the ground; a slight pain hit his spine. "I apologize. Get the wounded to the back! We have a couple of medics and a small supply of Emeraldine. Quickly!"

"Lieutenant Lockburr! I need some help over here! Come on, Sticks, hold it together! Come on!"

_That's... Turd? _David tried to stand, then pulled himself up. "Turd? Wh..."

A blurry figure came into view, then a hand reached down and pulled David to his feet. A shaking voice with all the ego stamped out of it: "Pits... you're alive. You kicked ass, man. If you hadn't pushed me over, I'd be the Moonies' pincushion right now. Can you walk?"

"I... I think."

"Damn it, this won't do!"

"Hey, I'll get him. Don't worry, man; you'll be okay. That's not a bad hit. Just keep it together and you'll be up before you know it."

"Wait." David turned around. "Who's hit? Wait, Sticks is hit?"

"Sticks... was hit. And... and..." Turd looked at the ground.

_No... don't tell me. Please don't..._

...then two of the soldiers walked by, roughly carrying a body face up. As they passed, David caught a glimpse first of the chest, which was covered with blood and bullet holes going up the chest and neck, and then of Wreck's face, his eyes frozen wide open.

The only thing David could hear for the next ten seconds was his dinner emerging from his mouth onto the floor.

* * *

**Golden Fortress Main Complex**

**11:01 PM**

Nemorov pushed off the floor with his hands, trying to stand up, then fell again as a sharp pain ran through his left arm. He stared at it; nothing visibly wrong. Swelling. Bruise? No. Too sharp. Broken bone? How? That didn't make any sense.

Silence. Silence in the world; only low moans could be heard. He couldn't open his mouth. He couldn't stand up. The enemy was near and he was stuck on the floor and didn't even know where his gun was. He could hear his soldiers trying to move. Slowly, he shuffled around to look at his soldiers. More pain; his stomach. On the side. Sharp again. No obvious damage, but... hurt in such odd places?

His soldiers. They were hurt too. Also odd places, from the looks of the ways they held themselves. One, cheekbone. Two, right arm. Could be bad. Wouldn't be able to shoot like that... wait, he's left-handed. Three, four, no visible damage. Five, broken leg. Looks like it was twisted to the side. Got to stop the bleeding.

He could feel his mouth move again, as if some kind of seal had been removed. He spoke first to the ones who were most wounded: "Corporal Dityatev. Private Maciek. Are you good to fight?"

"I... I can move. Can't really shoot a rifle like this, though; my right hand won't respond. I can wave a pistol around."

"I think they got my leg, but it won't slow me down... what the hell was that? Some kind of Bowlhead weapon? Do they have an OF here or something?"

"I don't know. Whatever it was..." Nemorov focused. _Damn it, the Comnet's out!_ "Something has happened to the OF-Lieutenant. You all disengaged in time, correct?"

The squad nodded. Nemorov tensed, then placed his right hand on the table and pulled himself to his feet. No pain. He opened his pack and pulled out a painkiller gel, quickly applying it to his left arm. It hurt, but unlike Corporal Dityatev, his arm still worked. "Listen outside. The gunfire has died down. I think the Bowlheads may have been hit too. Alright, men; take a moment to pull yourselves together. Then, we're going to take the fight to them."

* * *

**Golden Fortress Command Center**

**11:02 PM**

"What... what was that?"

The Command Center was in a greater mess than ever before. Several consoles were completely broken, and a couple of the officers had been taken to the makeshift medical bay on the other side of the room, sporting strange wounds. Captain Steele displayed no sign of injury herself, but her officers knew that even if she was in pain from head to toe, she would never admit it.

"Black... Ripple." The Captain's growling voice made the officers jump. "I've heard of it before."

"Captain Steele? Are you alright?"

"I used to... work at the Breakcom Training Center in the capital. That surge... that was why the junior OFs were not allowed to use the Amplifier. An OF that can't focus their power through it properly... that's what happens. He's probably wounded his own soldiers too. I hope our officers know what they're doing, because we've lost contact with most of them."

The remaining officers stared as the Captain stood up. She turned to them, grey eyes revealing nothing. "I'm going to the front. Coordinate things in my absence."

"Captain! Going out there now..."

"As it is now, we can't win. The enemy OF will be on his way; he won't be able to reengage his Comnet for a while. I will go and terminate as many enemies as I can before he arrives. Follow orders and take command, Lieutenant."

After the Captain left the room, one officer turned to another:

"How the hell does she know all this?"

* * *

**Golden Fortress Main Complex**

**11:05 PM**

Nemorov had been correct; the Bowlheads in the corridors had were in various states of injury and death, making them easy targets for his squad. As things were, he supposed that Blue Moon had permanently gained the upper hand in this battle, as messy a method that had been used.

After the Bowlheads in the corridorhad been shot or had retreated, he took out his console and checked on the rest of the platoon.

"What... this is impossible..." Nemorov looked on his datapad for a signal from a surviving squad leader, and found only one signal in his platoon. "Sergeant Ragulin! Status report!"

"Thank goodness you're safe, Lieutenant! We've lost the Comnet and they're everywhere!"

"You need to learn to take a little risk, Sergeant! The Bowlheads are hurting just like we are! Go out and kill them before they recover! You're almost at the Command Center, aren't you?"

"Lieutenant! That's simply not possible! On the other side, it's a- AAUUGH! What's going on? Keep shooting, you dogs, keep shooting! Why won't it work? She's just a s-"

"Sergeant!" Nemorov pounded the wall. _These soldiers are far too dependent on the Comnet. I thought my platoon was better than that!_

"Alright, squad! We're the only ones with a working transceiver, and HQ isn't responding. We have to move up and find any survivors. The Bowlheads can't have that many men left, but be on your guard. Stick together and keep sharp; remember the code phrase we set up before. Don't shoot until you're sure it's not one of ours."

* * *

**Blue Moon Forward HQ**

**11:06 PM**

In time, the OF-Lieutenant's spasming slowed and stopped. Slowly, the man opened his eyes. Lieutenant Baich was gone; the fool had probably left the HQ because he was scared of a couple falling rocks. How stupid.

As Droma stood up, his head began to throb. He ignored it, kicking aside the Amplifier's broken control console. This was taking too long; the commanders would not be pleased. For a moment, he worried that Sasha would be displeased with his performance. He dismissed the thought immediately; why was he worried about a nobody like her? Beside, she had made a habit of defying him, something he really didn't appreciate. This was taking far too long, though. If his soldiers were not competent enough to do the job, he would go into the base and capture it himself.

Droma looked around; the few other officers he had taken with him had also left. Well, not all of them; there was one man trying to get out from under a rock. Droma glared at the officer, wondering how one of his staff members could be so weak. The man tried to speak, but could only gurgle, reaching his arm up towards Droma like a half-crushed earthworm trying desperately to survive.

Droma kicked the man in the face, then turned away without a second glance. He stepped slowly towards the cave entrance, then stopped, hearing a noise he could not quite identify. For a moment, a shiver rose up his spine, and he did not question it; he dashed out of the cave mouth, taking in the Break Energy around him and using its field to propel himself forward.

As Droma emerged from the entrance of the cave, an RPG round flew past him and exploded on the side of the mouth, almost trapping him inside. Droma grinned in a bloodthirsty way, realizing just who had shot at him.

"Lieutenant Baich." Droma spat the words, staring up at the large lump of flesh about 10 meters away from him. All of the camp's lights were off except for the medical bay, which was on the other side of the hill. In the darkness, all that could be seen were the silhouettes of the two men.

"Whoops. Looks like I missed." The man's casual remark stirred up a whilwind of rage in Droma; to Baich, his adversary's eyes appeared to glow. _Perfect. Get him mad. He can't fight well when he's mad. _

"If you thought I couldn't handle that release, then you really are as stupid as you look."

"Aw. And here I planned to watch you crush yourself to death in the cave."

"Really. I can't well make death quick for you, now can I?" Droma growled, clenching his fist around his combat knife and launching himself at his enemy. He wasn't about to stoop to using his powers against such a weakling.

"Good." Baich dug his right boot's toe into the soft dirt and kicked it into Droma's face, smiling as he was rewarded with a yelp of pain and a premature swing that missed his body.

As Droma wiped the dirt from his eyes, the bearlike man caught the OF in the forehead with a hard punch, sending him sprawling backwards into the dirt. "You think I was going to be dumb and try shooting you right off the bat?" With a look as though solving an interesting math puzzle, Baich fired his pistol at Droma; the bullet disappeared before it reached the man's body. He watched the OF stand back up: "Thought so. But that B-Field you lot have ain't so good at blocking something blunt, is it?"

"Bastard!" Droma trembled as he glared up at the Lieutenant. He charged again, this time propelling himself with Break Energy. His enemy repositioned himself, avoiding the knife and allowing Droma's head to strike him in the stomach, which was protected by his bulletproof vest. Baich felt something crack in his body, but he also knew that Droma had felt the impact too. Baich's elbow came down on Droma's back, knocking the OF to the ground. The knife fell out of Droma's hand and disappeared into the darkness.

"Never mind, I take that back." Baich began to kick Droma in the head, again and again. "That B-Field's the only reason you aren't a bloody, useless pulp by now."

_That's... enough. _The pain running through Droma's head was nothing compared to the rage that burned through his body. He opened one of his palms, concentrating energy into a glowing light that changed shape as it faded until it became a lemon-shaped grenade. The OF hurled the grenade at his assailant; it would go off next to him, but his B-Field should be able to withstand one explosion.

But Baich was no longer there; the man had run away, perhaps anticipating Droma's maneuver. Droma looked around, surprised; the grenade went off with a bang and still the man did not show himself. For the first time, Droma regretted not carrying a pistol; he had always seen it as a sign of weakness, a sign that he himself didn't have enough power to fight. And now, that lazy bastard was besting him...! The very thought made Droma's blood boil.

"If that's how you're going to play..." Droma growled. _He's just a man. He's still around here, just hiding somewhere in the shadows. Well, I know just how to flush this roach out. _Many more lights appeared around him, and then even more: within seconds, 40 different grenades were now floating in midair around him, as if he were now within a shell of grenades. He started to wave his hand-

Then, he heard the sound of a pistol firing... and again, and again. Right after the fourth shot, one grenade exploded, triggering another, then another, all around him. As all of the grenades detonated, they provided a brief light, burning into the night the shape of OF-Lieutenant Droma, an expression of pure hatred illuminated on his face.

As the light faded, Lieutenant Baich stood up, appearing from behind a large rock several tens of meters away from the explosion. "Phew. Lucky me. Seems like his grenades _do_ pierce each other."

As Baich climbed over the ledge walked towards the shallow crater, looking down to make sure Droma was dead, the ground suddenly trembled. As Baich tried to catch his balance, five thin columns of dust rose up from behind and struck through the Lieutenant's body. It was a second before Baich realized that the dust had hardened; he tried to walk forward, but a sharp pain struck him and a spurt of blood stained his uniform purple.

"...what...?" the large man gasped, falling backwards onto the spikes. As he fell, ten more spikes rose up and pierced his arms and legs. Baich's vision blurred as he struggled to comprehend, realizing that he had underestimated just how difficult it was to kill a Breakcom, even a weak one like this.

"Heh... eh heh..." A dark, otherwordly growling emerged from the crater as more dust spikes began to form; even through the pain, Baich reflexively pulled his neck to the side to avoid a spike.

"You... you LOSE, LieuTENant Baich..." A figure rose up from the crater like a puppet with all its strings severed except for the ones on its shoulders. OF-Lieutenant Droma's thick coat had been shredded, leaving nothing but a torn, bloody black sweatshirt and pants. His face looked like a ghost, cuts and bruises forming a network of lines on his face not unlike a giant red tattoo. Only his long brown hair and ice blue eyes remained, piercing into Baich like the gaze of the devil claiming a doomed soul.

"Hah... you can't kill a god, worm. This new power that I've received is a testament to that." The monstrous man let out a mocking, piercing laugh. "I think I'll make your end as slow as I can. Let's see... what should I break first?"

Droma threw his arms in the air, and several waves of mud flew from the ground, thin yet hard as a knife. Baich felt his right hand explode with agony, then a second time, and then again and again and again, the chill of the night air instantly replaced by waves of searing pain. His throat grew raw; he heard nothing but the sound of his own scream in those terrible seconds. Baich let his head fall to the side, eyes closed tight. He knew that if he opened them, he knew he would be forced to see the bloody remains of his hand, nothing left of it but a damp pile of chopped meat and bone on the ground.

Then, the feeling of a foreign object lodged in his body vanished, and another spike of pain shot through him as he hit the ground. Unable to move, he could only listen to what happened next:

"Ah... what? You? No! Why have you come here, you bitch? This man was a traitor! He tried to-"

"OF-Lieutenant Droma. You are removed from command in this sector and are awaiting court-martial for violating orders from CO-General Olaf. You were specifically instructed not to activate your OF Power, yet you disobeyed that order. I'm surprised you're still alive. And you're trying to execute an officer even though you should be powerful enough to take him alive for questioning? You... you shame me." The cold voice was female: OF-Colonel Sasha.

"Hah... I see what's going on now. If you try to steal my glory, I'll dispose of you too!"

Droma waved his hand, summoning more columns of dust from the ground in front of Sasha, launching them diagonally upwards at her. As the columns approached her, though, they unraveled like a whirlwind and dissipated back into dust. Droma's eyes widened as Sasha continued walking slowly towards him, the sadness in her eyes mixed with a darkness that told the man she would show no mercy.

"Wait... what? Hey... no..." Droma created five grenades and launched them at her; she glanced at each of them, and they dissolved before reaching her.

"Stay back! I'm sorry! I didn't mean any of it! I won't... mmph!" Droma fell over, becoming increasingly aware of the pain he was in; as his rage gave way to fear, it became almost unbearable, sealing his lips shut in an ugly grimace. He scrambled backwards on hands and feet, soon bumping his head into the debris that now sealed off the cave.

As Sasha approached, Droma desperately threw grenade after grenade; they all dissolved in midair. Droma touched the cave wall, and a chunk of rock went flying towards her; a glance from Sasha destroyed its acceleration and sent it tumbling to the ground. When she was five meters away, Sasha dashed towards him and knocked him out with a single kick.

With that done, she turned to her transceiver. "The package is secure. Come and pick him up, but observe proper precautions." With that, she dashed over to Lieutenant Baich. "Can you walk?"

"I... I might need some help with that." The Lieutenant tried to grin, but it came out as more of a wince.

"My soldiers will be here to get you to the medical camp in a minute or so. I'll question you and the others about your actions later. For now, I have a battle to fight."

With that, OF-Colonel Sasha walked away. Baich lay on the ground limply, devoid of the energy he needed to move, cry, or laugh.

* * *

**Continental Highway 72**

**Abandoned Gas Station**

**11:15 PM**

It wasn't just the fact that Wreck had been killed. Recruit David Carroll knew that he had seen his squadmate die, and he hadn't even reacted to it. He didn't know if he had known who it was at the time; his memories of that incident were still a blur. It was still inexcusable. One of his squadmates, one of his friends was... he couldn't be dead. It just wasn't possible. Not in this day and age. They had a miracle healing substance with them right now, right...?

"It was an unlucky hit. One of the bullets busted his brainstem. Not even Emeraldine can bring him back now."

_How could... how could I watch my friend die and not think anything of it? _

"Pits, come on! They're comin' back for another round! Come on, you were like a war machine last time!"

_I can't do it... that... that wasn't me. _

"They've got a tank! It's a tank! Get the hell away from the wall!"

An explosion. Recruit David Carroll looked around at the makeshift medical area in the storeroom, watching the wounded around him as the healing gel known as Emeraldine did its work on them. It was more than a regenerative tool and blood-loss stopper – it could restart the heart, even the brain as long as vital areas of it weren't damaged. Best of all, it was inexpensive to produce, so every soldier had a small vial of it in their pack. According to the Houston Conventions, a victorious army was required to give some to captured enemy soldiers. David could only think about dry facts like that; it was a good anesthetic for the type of pain he was feeling.

He could still hear the sounds of battle on the other side. Now, it sounded more like a slaughter; less yelling, more screaming. He felt his body move without his consent; it scared him, so he tried to resist it. Nevertheless, his limp body crawled back into the convenience store's main area. The front wall was now destroyed; all the soldiers were behind overturned shelves or the counter; thankfully, it was enough to stop bullets at this range, but not if the enemy got close. On the street outside, several Blue Moon vehicles were there, firing at them; David counted two recon vehicles and at least three armored cars, one in flames. The soldiers behind the counter were down to their last bazooka, it seemed.

What remained of his squad lay behind an overturned shelf closer to the front. As Turd turned to reload, he saw David there, and beckoned; David crawled over. As Turd returned to firing, David couldn't bring himself to shoot; even though he thought he had lost hope, his body still yearned to survive just enough that he couldn't ignore the bullets flying around the building. A long BANG sounded, and the wall above the counter broke under a tank shell, sending concrete and shrapnel flying; the squad misfired their bazooka and hit the road. Turd fell over, blood spurting from his shoulder. As David's terror gave way to hopelessness, he peeked over the shelf and saw that the Recons' gun turrets were pointed away from the store, instead gazing down the road, perhaps they thought the battle was already won-

And then one of the recons exploded, sending bodies flying. A surge of adrenaline ran through David's body as the rest of the Moonie vehicles turned towards this new threat; he supported his rifle on the shelf and fired at the Recon. The vehicles tried to drive away, but one armored car exploded, then another; David saw the crew of the last jump out and run for the woods. A few seconds later, several Orange Star APCs drove up and unloaded the squads inside. David felt lightheaded. There had to be a catch. Was it all a trick, a Moonie ruse to get their hopes up before slaughtering them all?

As he thought that, several more vehicles arrived. One Recon went into the woods, perhaps in pursuit of the Blue Moon infantry, while a platoon of tanks pulled up in front of the gas station. The hatch on the lead tank opened, and out jumped...

...no, that can't be. David stood up, hardly willing to believe it.

And of course, it wasn't true. The face was different, but it had that same youthful intensity that he'd known before his brother had left to become an OF. The similarities were so striking that he found himself stepping forward, forgetting that a shelf lay in front of him. David tripped over the shelf, falling over a bunch of discarded shell casings and landing right at the feet of the young boy in orange shorts.

The kid looked down at him and grinned without a trace of falseness in his face. "You okay, soldier?"

David accepted the hand that the kid offered to help him up. As he got to his feet, the boy shook his other hand.

"Nice to meet you. My name is Andy!"

* * *

**OF Droma**

Rank: Lieutenant

Affiliation: Blue Moon

Skill: Enemy units take extra damage after each combat. Otherwise, regular OF combat strength.

Power: BLACK RIPPLE ********

Automatically activates when charged. All units take a wave of damage. Enemy units take a second wave of damage.

A newly awakened OF still learning to control his powers. Believes himself to be above normal humans.

Hit: Blood

Miss: Water

"I won't be beaten by the likes of you!"

**OF Sasha**

Rank: Colonel

Affiliation: Blue Moon

Skill: Gains extra income from properties. Attack and defense lower than a CO's.

Power: MARKET CRASH ****

Decreases the opponent's charged power based on Sasha's current funds.

Blue Moon's star OF. Calm and polite, with a hidden vicious streak when crossed.

Hit: Truffles

Miss: Pork Rinds

"Money is power."


	6. Gold Rush III: Aftershock

**Gold Rush III: Aftershock**

**Golden Fortress Main Complex**

**December 3, 11:25 PM**

Nemorov did not encounter any more resistance on the way to the Command Center, which made him suspicious; there were plenty of Blue Moon bodies on the trail there, including the body of Sergeant Ragulin. He knew when he was near, though, as at least one squad, maybe two squads of Bowlheads were lying in wait at the end of the corridor, behind permanent bunker-like fortifications. These ones were better-equipped than the squads he had fought on the way there; among other things, they had a heavy machine gun and several grenade launchers. The sudden increase in heavy ordinance made it clear that the target of interest was on the other side.

Nevertheless, Nemorov found it very difficult to believe these two squads had killed all the soldiers he had seen in the hallway without taking any casualties themselves, especially since most of the bodies were not in the deathtrap corridor. His squad pulled back, returning to the main hallway.

Corporal Dityatev, the squad's medic, inspected the bodies while the rest of the squad covered the hallway's exits. "These three men here can still be saved with enough Emeraldine; I estimate we have a few hours to give it to them. We need to pull back and take them to the med camp so we can treat them for real, though."

One of the soldiers groaned. "We're almost at the Command Room!"

The Lieutenant glared at the man. "Private Chazov, these Bowlheads have slaughtered several of our squads already; what makes you think we stand a better chance in that corridor, especially without the Command Network? Aside from your callous disregard for the lives of our comrades, we need information about how these men were attacked. These dogs are pinned – they aren't going anywhere. Now grab a man and help! We can have the tanks demolish the compound if it comes to that!"

That's right; before the Comnet went down, there were at least two tanks still operational. Corporal Dityatev inspected one of the bodies closer. "Sir... this man here was killed by a blow to the head, perhaps by a strike from a gun. He also has... a pistol bullet in his leg. In fact, at least four of the men here, including the Sergeant, were hit in a limb by a pistol at close range, then died from blunt force trauma. The Sergeant's beyond saving, though; his head's like a half-mashed potato."

"Then we should be extra careful on the way out. Carry the bodies, but watch for ambushes; Sergeant Vdovin will cover our backs. I've got the front. Corporal, are you good for lifting with your hand like that?"

"Yeah. Might be a little slow."

"See to it that's not too slow then, Corporal. Alright; let's move."

* * *

**Continental Highway 72**

**11:32 PM**

Recruit David Carroll looked on as if in a stupor while OF-Lieutenant Andy worked his magic with one of the broken APCs. The rest of the soldiers were resting, checking their equipment, and preparing to return to the Golden Fortress. The recruits were effectively relieved from duty, as they were not expected to fight in the upcoming battle; most were with their wounded friends. Several of the APCs had been designated as medical vehicles, and Andy had brought along some more medics and a large supply of Emeraldine, so most of the wounded were officially out of danger. It was too risky to send the wounded back to the capital, though; the staff had all agreed it was safer to return to the Golden Fortress and set up a temporary HQ there if the situation was as bad as they had feared. And it might be; there was no transceiver communication from the fortress, and with a Dark Spot over the area, no satellite images could be taken.

David could see Sergeant Levins talking with Lieutenant Lockburr; he wasn't surprised that the Sergeant had made it through safely, though to David he looked a little pale. He turned back to Andy, who was inspecting the APC like a doctor diagnosing a patient. The kid had a small smile, but was concentrating intensely. As David watched, the outside of the vehicle unwound and shifted, returning to its normal state. The kid – no, the OF-Lieutenant turned around and grinned. "Alright. Good as new!"

David couldn't face Turd or Sticks like this. He didn't feel worthy of it, even if they could use his support. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Lt. Lockburr point at him; when he turned to look, Sergeant Levins was staring at him and nodding. The Sergeant walked over to him as he stood up.

"Recruit Carroll, at ease. The Lieutenant was just telling me about the firefight. I see you've met OF-Lieutenant Andy already."

"Y-yes, sir." _Why's he talking to me like this?_

"I'll save the questions for later. I'll want to see you when we reach the base, though. Blasted transceiver silence."

"Questions, sir?"

"Oh. Well, don't worry about it right now. Just get yourself rested; you recruits have done well today. I suppose you can only be so ready for your first firefight. Sometimes it tells you something."

The Sergeant turned and walked away, leaving David to wonder just what that had been all about. Somehow, he felt even more drained than before. As Andy moved on to the other damaged APC, David decided to help the wounded into the medical vehicles, making sure to avoid contact with his squad.

* * *

**Blue Moon Forward Camp**

**Golden Fortress**

**11:40 PM**

Lt. Nemorov and what remained of his squad staggered out from the main complex's catacombs, shortly arriving at their forward camp within the base perimeter. The camp looked quite deserted from the outside, aside from the few soldiers standing guard, but he could hear faint moaning, probably from the wounded. That was never a good sign.

Nemorov looked around briefly, and saw the charred remains of one more tank near the camp; the other was nowhere in sight. He sighed; so it had all gone worse than expected. He and his men entered the large tent with the Medical Corps' circular symbol on it; they were greeted by a man with a Lieutenant's badge and, if his face was any indication, a splitting headache.

"More wounded?" the man asked, as if he'd done so a hundred times already. Considering the size of the assault, that really couldn't have been the case, but Nemorov could see that the room was already full of injured soldiers and frantic medics.

Corporal Dityatev spoke: "Brain dead, for the time being, but they can be saved. If you've got a truck available-"

"No trucks left. We just sent a group back."

"Then do we have enough Emeraldine here for a revival? I'm sending your datapad their medical estimates."

The man sighed, and pulled out his datapad as if removing it from a sea of molasses. "Tight schedule again, huh? They're not gonna make it, soldier. We don't have the capacity to take these guys back to the HQ."

Nemorov glowered at the man. Before he could speak, however, he heard the noise of approaching engines. "No trucks, you say?"

The other officer looked surprised, though. "Maybe now we have enough. Of course, with our luck it's the Bowlheads coming to take us all out."

The Lieutenant left the tent and, not seeing anything out of the ordinary on the side near the base, rushed to the back of the camp. As he arrived, he saw a welcome sight: several APCs offloading a fresh group of infantry, and a Transport Copter with command markings perched outside the camp. He looked around, and saw what was unmistakably an OF there... but she definitely wasn't the one in command from before.

"Ma'am!" he called; the girl turned around, her long brown hair waving in the wind. "Lieutenant Eitan Nemorov of the 1st Platoon reporting!"

"Ah, good. There's still a semblance of order around here." Nemorov couldn't decipher the tone in the girl's voice; when combined with her tall stance and hard-edged eyes, that suggested danger, yet he felt like he could trust her as a commander. Her uniform had no specific medals or insignias on it, but something about her had an air of authority. Her stance was relaxed, yet suggested an alertness that boasted of frontline experience. The girl's stare bored into him. "Status report, Lieutenant."

"Damned if I know, ma'am. The Comnet went down and we've been trying to gather survivors in the main complex. To my knowledge there's only a couple squads left guarding the main Command-Control center, with heavy weapons. Some of our men down there were killed at close range. We just found a few that could be rezzed and brought them back here so we could regroup and find out what the hell's going on."

"OF-Lieutenant Droma has been relieved from command following gross insubordination. I am now in command of this operation, but we don't have a Break Amplifier anymore. I'll need your squad to retune your frequency to my Comnet."

The girl beckoned to a bearded soldier behind her. "You will working alongside Captain Amir Skliarenko, who is in command of my Spetsnaz platoon. I arrived under orders of supervising OF-Lieutenant Droma's operation, not delivering reinforcements, so I'm afraid there is no question of holding the fortress if more Orange Star units show up. However, my squad should be able to gather survivors and raid the Command Center to obtain whatever information they haven't already destroyed. Your duty will be to accompany the attack on the Command Center since you are familiar with the base's layout. Skliarenko will brief you on the rest."

"Understood, ma'am." Nemorov saluted the Captain; the man returned the salute, staring at him with a clear message that he only did so because his commander was looking.

Nemorov assembled the rest of his squad in front of the new OF, who looked them over. "I am OF-Colonel Sasha."

_A Colonel? Up here in this mountainous wasteland? Just what is going on here?_

Sasha's light brown eyes glowed. "The Comnet tuning has been completed. Captain Skliarenko, you are in control."

"Yes, OF-Colonel." Nemorov's squad followed the man back towards the complex entrance; two squads of Spetsnaz followed.

Nemorov turned to his soldiers. "Corporal Dityatev. Are you good to go?"

"I think I've got some internal bleeding, Lieutenant. Permission to go to the medical ward?"

"Permission granted. Don't want you becoming permanently useless, after all." Nemorov gave his comrade a slap on the back, then watched him go. Skliarenko scoffed, but didn't say anything; Nemorov decided it would be better not to take the bait.

The two groups of Blue Moon soldiers walked together in silence, members occasionally looking at each other with distrustful eyes.

_What disgrace. You screwed up a simple operation and left behind a mess even we can't fix. _

_You assholes knew our commander was a problem, yet you didn't come until after our comrades were killed. _

In silence, the march continued, resentment persisting until the activatation of Sasha's Comnet finally gave the squads something better to worry about.

* * *

**11:52 PM**

Nemorov immediately recognized the corridor leading to the ambush site. "This is it. But..."

"The bodies are gone." Skliarenko looked around. Over the Comnet, the two squad leaders could sense that the other Spetsnaz squads had successfully secured most of the base, except for one area: the generator room. The tunnel to the underground generator had been collapsed, and would take hours to reach.

The Captain tapped his foot. "They're trying to psych us out. Too bad. Doesn't work on us Spetsnaz."

Nemorov saw his point, but he was worried about the fact that they saw fit to do something so bold even with the possibility of more Blue Moon soldiers coming by. Or, that could mean...

Skliarenko agreed with the thought over the Comnet. 'Highly mobile enemy group, likely just fireteam. Close-range, uses surprise to kill. Be on guard.'

The Spetsnaz pointman deftly peeked around the corner, then pulled back as a hail of bullets greeted him. 'Corridor too long for explosive weapons. Let's go with Plan B.'

'Plan B' turned out to be what the second squad was working on: surveying the surrounding hallways to find an alternate entry point – or rather, the best location from which to create an alternate entry point using high explosives. It took the squad a few more minutes, but eventually a point nearby was chosen where a combination of two explosive events could punch a path directly into the underground room without causing the building to collapse. The first squad set up their equipment at the covered entrance in order to prevent an escape from that angle, while Nemorov went to join the explosives squad.

As Nemorov circled back around to the hallway where the explosives squad waited, a signal came over the Comnet from the squad. 'Under attack. Can't see enemy. Grenade launcher.'

Nemorov and his remaining soldiers would normally have liked to hurry, but the Lieutenant slowly realized that the day's events had taken a heavier toll on him than he would have liked to admit. His squad had lost two good men that day, and three more were receiving medical treatment. He hated to admit it, but both his mind and muscles cried out for rest.

And yet he hurried anyways, perhaps driven by the Comnet's warm reassurances that their commander would not abandon them. That was the feeling of Sasha's Comnet; warm, but firm.

Then, the lights started blinking out on the Comnet as Nemorov reached the corner. A message from the squad: 'Enemy soldier slow approach, not taking cover. Officer, woman. Strange, bullets no effect wait, she's fast! Engaging close immed*****'

Nemorov signaled for his squad to stay back, then rounded the corner, weapon at the ready. The body of one of the Spetsnaz soldiers fell next to him, screaming as he held his chest. In the next second, the explosives went off, the blast directed away from the wall they were supposed to destroy. As the dust cleared, he could see several more soldiers on the ground riddled with bullet holes, and a woman in an Orange Star officer's uniform walking towards him. The woman did not appear to be harmed in the slightest.

The Lieutenant's instincts had always served him well, and right now, they were yelling something along the lines of _drop your shit and run_. He grabbed the wounded soldier and dragged him around the corner as fast as he could, sending a message through the Comnet as he and his squad ran: 'I thought you said there was no OF at the base!'

A reply came from what he assumed was Sasha's advisor: 'OF in the base?'

'Some woman just wiped out a whole squad! Bullets had no effect on her! She has to be an OF!'

'Even through the Darkspot, we would be able to detect an enemy Comnet. If they had that advantage, they would have used it earlier.'

'Well, I'm just telling you what I saw, and I'm sure you heard from the squad before they bit it. I have a survivor here to back me up.'

A retreat order came over the Network to the Nemorov, as well as Skliarenko's squad. 'OF-Colonel Sasha will disengage the Comnet when all soldiers are safely back. She will personally dispose of this anomaly.'

So for the second time that day, Lieutenant Nemorov found himself rushing out of the the Bowlheads' accursed compound. Was this tiny installation truly worth the blood they were paying for it?

* * *

**December 4, 12:02 AM**

When Nemorov emerged, it turned out he wasn't the only one with that thought.

OF-Colonel Sasha walked up to him. "Lieutenant Nemorov. Good work today. We're making preparations to retreat; your orders have been transferred to your datapad."

Nemorov glanced at his communicator; it seemed his task was to help the wounded into the trucks. He was content with that role; however, Captain Skliarenko was not. "We're leaving? You said you were going in!"

"Scouts report an Orange Star armored company moving this way, ETA 30 minutes. There is an OF with the unit. We won't have time to lock down the base before they arrive."

"Bullsh- I mean, OF-Colonel, ma'am, that bitch killed six of my men! By my pride as a Blue Moon soldier-"

"We will make her pay in time, Captain. However, I doubt your men would want you to die here because of them."

To Nemorov's surprise, the Captain backed down, staring at the ground. Nemorov could see that even the Spetsnaz squads had a measure of respect for this commander. Funny it had taken him so long in the Blue Moon military to find a senior officer he knew could be trusted.

"As for you, Lieutenant Nemorov, I commend your efforts today. The after-action report is to be delivered to me, not Droma. I believe that you would make a fine addition to my division."

"Th... thank you, sir." The man was far too overwhelmed by the day to display any kind of emotional reaction to the news.

"As for the OF-Lieutenant... I will need to get to the bottom of what happened." With that, OF-Colonel Sasha returned to coordinating the disassembly of Blue Moon's forward camp, not able to rest until 20 minutes later, when she finally returned to the solitude of her helicopter's Command Chamber. By now, though, she had finally exhausted her grief over Droma. The man she knew was dead. All that remained was hate.

* * *

**12:40 AM**

When Recruit David Carroll returned to the Golden Fortress, there were no more Blue Moon soldiers remaining within the base's perimeter – at least, none that hadn't surrendered to Andy's Company as they moved in and reestablished control of the base. The OF-Lieutenant went down to the power room to fix the cave-in that the Engineering Corps had devised to keep Blue Moon away from the generator. David just sat on the side of one of the APCs, watching the rest of the recruits as they helped the wounded out. He vaguely wondered why he was being allowed to slack this way, then turned his thoughts back to the dreary sky, which was covered by all the smoke from the battle.

Sergeant Frank Levins didn't have time to worry about the recruits. Instead, he had gone right into the base with a squad for escort, repeatedly hailing the Command Center... and receiving no response. As he approached the room, the knot in his chest grew tighter and tighter – until he heard a noise behind him, startling him into diving around the nearest corner. The squad escorting him whirled around, then lowered their weapons.

"Not very military, are you, Sergeant?" It was the voice he had wanted to hear the most.

"Captain Steele. You're alive." Unlike the Captain, Sergeant Levins couldn't keep the relief out of his voice.

The Captain turned to the squad leader. "Sergeant, move on. We can handle ourselves here. " She waited until the squad left before continuing. "Here's the short version: we've got a ton of wounded down here, and plenty of Emeraldine. I hope you brought some better med officers, though; I've only just realized that we've been in sore need of a real doctor here. We might also need a shrink, what with the things the new ones have seen."

"True. Well, we've got a mechanic who can fix bodies. No shrink, though." The Sergeant then remembered his orders, feeling a little foolish as the Captain gave a small laugh at his movements.

"You're scratching your nose again, Sergeant. New orders from the OF?"

"Yeah. The kid – the OF Andy – blabbed your secret to me. Though really, it wasn't really a secret at all, was it?" Frank Levins dropped his military manner entirely. "Clever of Nell. I wouldn't have suspected that partial Breakcoms – no, what was the word they used-"

Captain Steele sighed. "Projectors. 'Break Prodigy' would be the technical term, but 'Projector' stuck. It's a highly-kept secret, but I don't doubt they're hidden throughout Blue Moon as well. Unlike a Breakcom, we can't be detected by the resonance scanners unless we use our powers." The two of them began walking towards the command room.

"Yeah. I wouldn't know that Projectors existed if that blasted stiff Lockburr hadn't so excited about it. Apparently that kid Carroll is a Projector too, you know?"

The Captain frowned slightly. "Wasn't his brother a Breakcom?"

Sergeant Levins tapped the wall with his fist. "Really? I thought they said it didn't run through families or anything like that?"

"They also said the Black Ripple couldn't be controlled, and we all saw five years ago how wrong that was." The Captain sighed. "So, what's the word from the top?"

"That kid Andy's taking control of the base. We're to get the comms up and running. According to the kid, the big cheese herself wants to talk to us. Who knows what the hell it is. All I know is that we've got to get the base running soon. I bet the Moonies are up to something again. They always are."

Captain Steele nodded. The two of them had reached the corridor that led to the command center. "So, Captain. _Your _orders?"

"Wait." The Captain held up her hand. "What you were told about me... who else knows?"

"Nobody. Apparently Andy was ordered to tell me in particular. Word came straight from Nell. Who knows, maybe she's watching us now."

Flora Steele laughed a little more. "Alright. Go and tell Recruit Carroll the big news. I'll handle things down here in the base."

"Great. You always take the easy jobs for yourself, don't you?"

"Don't make me pull rank on you, _Sergeant._"

"Alright, alright! I'll see you on the other side, _Captain_."

With that release of their tension, the two secret friends went back to their duties, their main sources of anxiety relieved.

* * *

**Retreating Blue Moon Troop Convoy**

**12:51 AM**

"And that concludes my report, CO-General." Sasha leaned forward in the velvet chair, trying not to show weakness. Blue Moon's Command T-Copters were well-furnished, full of the kind of comforts that would make a king jealous. Even so, OF-Colonel Sasha wished to be anywhere but there, giving this kind of bad report – well, perhaps not _anywhere_ else. Olaf was usually forgiving, but when something in his plans went wrong...

"Hmph." Olaf's brown eyes were like fire. "That blasted Nell! She had a Projector stationed at the base? Grrr... that sneaky, sneaky..."

"I can call my division," Sasha offered. "If we assemble quickly, then-"

"NO!" Olaf's roar prompted an exasperated sigh from the girl; insubordination from anyone else, but from his trusted commanders, it was quite commonplace. The large man took a few deep breaths. Then continued. "Let's forget about the Golden Fortress for now. We have no time to waste, and your forces are already rallied for the attack on the capital, correct?"

"Yes, sir." Sasha hated it when Olaf got into this kind of mood. He was supposed to be the symbol of Blue Moon's military might, and he often looked and acted the part. However, when he lost it like this... once and a while it was scary, but most of the time it just made him look like a big idiot. Sasha's younger brother idolized the man; she had sworn not to ever let him see Olaf in a weak state. That would shatter her brother's dreams.

"Perfect!" The man's mood flipped like an Othello piece, going from black to snowy white in an instant. "Don't worry about anything; just head over to the battle site. We are going all-in this time."

"No changes to the plan, then?"

"Of course not, my dear. The Golden Fortress was just a trap to draw them away from the capital. And we succeeded, didn't we? Perhaps it didn't work as well as I planned, but it will all be for naught when Orange Star's capital becomes mine! Heh heh heh..."

Sasha sat back and allowed Olaf his smug moment. Captain Skliarenko and the Spetsnaz would not be pleased with this turn of events, but her commander was right in that there would be plenty of time to return to the Golden Fortress once the capital fell.

"Get some sleep, Sasha. I'll need you to take over tomorrow's night attack. After all, even I need to rest once and a while."

"Alright... I'll do that. Good hunting, CO-General."

"Sweet dreams, my dear. If all goes well, you won't have too much to do tomorrow night." Olaf's face disappeared from the transceiver.

* * *

**Golden Fortress Recruit Barracks 4**

**1:00 AM**

Despite the fact of the Blue Moon attack that had occurred just hours ago, the barracks seemed almost untouched to Recruit David Carroll. Perhaps it was just a relief to see any kind of normality after what he had experienced; his memories were becoming ever foggier and he just wanted to take a nap.

David sat inside his room, which was now deserted except for him. Far, the only squadmate who wasn't wounded in some way, was staying at the medical bay, so David had a chance to get some solitude. He lay on his bunk, staring up at the bed above him and trying to summon up the willpower required to go to sleep – in his state, even such a simple endeavor seemed difficult. The only thing that came naturally to him right now was lying there, thinking about various things and trying to recall just what happened during that period of time where the world had seemed to change...

The door flew open with a *bang*, something that would have startled the usual David Carroll. It did startle him, but he had no energy with which to react, even after the intruder spoke and David vaguely realized he would have to respond:

"Recruit Carroll. It's Sergeant Levins. I have an important message. You gonna listen, or just lie there like a dead skunk?"

"Sir." The recruit couldn't stand up.

Sergeant Levins felt his irritation rise, but he stopped himself before he went all Sergeant Nasty on the kid; it wouldn't do good to berate him after what he'd done, although Levins really couldn't understand the kid's reaction. _Then again, I suppose my first battle was much worse_.

"Hey. You want answers, right, maggot?"

"Answers? What for? Um... sir." David Carroll rolled over onto his front.

_Alright, now he's just screwing with me. Time for Sergeant Nasty._ "Recruit! Today you experienced your first firefight. Explain it to me in detail, now. That includes the part where you crapped your pants afterward."

The boy lifted his head slightly. "With all due respect, sir... go to hell."

"That's fifty times more balls than I've seen from you in all the time I've been your babysitter. Who'd you pilfer all them balls from, Recruit?"

"Alright, alright. If you've got an answer to what the heck I did, then just spit it out already. Um, sir."

"You're coming with me to see the Captain. She's better at talking about this kind of crap. Come on, those arms and legs are for moving your body, not flopping around."

David rolled off the bunk, then pulled himself up, using the bunk as support. "Lead the way... sir."

"That's more like it. Alright, don't get lost on the way. This ain't rocket science."

* * *

"You look like hell. Here. Take some." The tall woman pushed a travel mug across the table to David.

"Mm. Don't drink coffee." David could barely keep his head up, and he was far beyond being polite. "Just tell me."

"Apologies. You struck me as the type."

"Captain, ma'am. Am... am I even fucking alive anymore? Or is this some kind of twisted karmic hell?"

"Recruit David Carroll... you're a Projector. Essentially, a Breakcom without the ability to create a Command Network. You should know that I am like that as well. Considering your... family circumstances, I assume you're familiar with these concepts."

David stared at a bullet hole in the conference room's table. "Pretty much."

"If you don't want to talk to the rest of your squad about this, it can be arranged. This isn't the kind of thing that Orange Star would like to be public knowledge anyways. We're fixing up the transceiver because Nell wanted to talk with us, but I think you should be here for it if you're up to it."

"I... I'm really not. Captain..." David traced the hole with his finger. "I... I watched my squadmate die."

"And according to Lieutenant Lockburr, you effectively saved the rest of their lives."

The recruit knocked over the coffee cup, spilling the brown liquid across the table. "I watched him die and didn't feel a damn thing about it! Is that really what it's like to be a Breakcom? Is that why you..." He trailed off, staring at Captain Steele, who had stood up and was now wiping the coffee off the table.

"Are you asking if all the soldiers at the base are just statistics to me?" She sighed and looked down. "No, not at all. Are you afraid of yourself?"

"I... it's too awful..."

"It is quite inhuman." The Captain opened the mug, then smiled. "Good. You didn't waste it all." She drank the rest.

"But I stand by what I said earlier. The rest of you would be dead or in Blue Moon captivity right now if it weren't for your power. I don't know enough to say if the side-effect you are afraid of will be present the next time you use it. I've actually never had that problem with mine."

"Never... never again." The young man's face hit the table.

"What do you plan to do, pretend it doesn't exist? I'd like to know something, Recruit. Why did you join the military?"

"Go away. Make it go away."

Captain Steele sighed. "Okay. How about this: what would your brother think of you right now?"

David's head snapped back up again. "How the hell should I know? Ask that OF in charge of the base! Go ask him, or any of his goddamn kind! How could any of us know how a Breakcom thinks? If what I... if that was ANYTHING like what they..." He gagged suddenly, then hurled bile out across the table. Seconds passed without a word as the recruit stood there, coughing at the ground. Seconds passed. Then, he finished in a quiet voice:

"He wouldn't give one shit. That's what."

"Then let that be your answer for now." Flora snapped her fingers, and a soldier entered the room. "Please escort Recruit Carroll to the officers' barracks. He is to take Room 38. Recruit, I will call you if I have need of you tomorrow."

David stood up slowly, completely stiff. He walked out of the room after the soldier, with the demeanor of a drunk man walking through a rainstorm without an umbrella.

As the door closed, Sergeant Levins spit at the wall. "Stupid kid. Flora, I told you we should've let him rest first."

"He would have acted this way regardless. No matter how we broke the news to him, he'd think of his brother. At least this way, it might be easier for him to sleep tonight."

"Heh. You have an odd way of doing things." Levins sat down at the table. "I assume everything worth eating was looted?"

"Unless you like freeze-dried bunker rations. Now help me with these cables."


	7. Venture Capital II: Initiation

It's been a few months since I've updated. Been quite busy. In addition to this update, **I have revised the battle in the Prologue** to be a little more interesting, and made some small additions to the next two chapters. Anyhow, the story continues now...

* * *

**Venture Capital II: Initiation**

**Blue Moon Forward HQ**

**South of Fort Halberd**

**December 4, 8:15 AM**

"CO-General Olaf. The Dark Spot will clear within 5 minutes. All units are ready to move on your signal." Olaf's comm-control officer spoke over the transceiver, as Olaf preferred privacy in his command room.

"Excellent. Now where the hell is Grit?" Olaf leaned back in his custom-made command chair, which was highly reminiscent of a sofa. He flicked a switch. "Grit! Grit, are you there?"

"Uh..." A lanky young officer with dark circles under his eyes. "Uh, this is Lieutenant Nyberg, triple-com officer. CO-Colonel Grit is... still preparing." The man winced.

"Darn it, Grit! Blue Moon is about to make history, and you..." Olaf glared. "Lieutenant! Direct order from the top: get that idiot moving!"

"Yes, CO-General."

Olaf switched channels on his transceiver, then took a deep breath. Now was the time... at last. He could feel a tingling in his chest. "All units! This is CO-General Olaf speaking."

"There have been times in the history of Wars World where the greatness of a nation is tested. In approximately five minutes, one such moment will begin. The nation to be tested, of course, is Orange Star. We of Blue Moon need not such tests, for we know where the strength of our nation lies!"

"We stand upon land that Orange Star has claimed in the name of their corruption. The day has finally come when we shall expose their rot for all the world to see. I will not lie, comrades: we have been humbled before by the fiends of the north. Over 35 years ago, we seemingly lost our being, our nation's borders broken and our people claimed by the sea of hatred that is Orange Star."

"But that proved to be our enemy's weakness. The colonialist invaders believed that planting their flag in our gut would destroy us. What folly! They have no concept of the identity of a nation! A country is not composed merely of lines on a map! It is not defined by the politicians who surrender all to save their own skin! It is not limited by the cities that dot its surface, nor the factories that produce materials for war!

"No. A nation lives in the land that serves as its foundation! It is nourished by the plants, the trees, the creatures that choose to call it their home! It is embodied by the common people who give it life and breath, the spirits that embody the ideals that compose it!"

"We are those spirits. We, as soldiers of the Blue Moon armed forces, are a living testament to all that the nation stands for, all that the nation LIVES for! Does Orange Star live for anything? What could they live for other than their lack of principle? Breath and consumption alone do not create life! We do not call their drones Bowlheads merely for the shapes of their helmets! They are empty-headed fools driven solely by the fear of death!"

"My comrades. This is not a struggle between mere mortals over a pile of concrete. This is a war between the spirits of two nations. One nation is unwavering, strong in what it embodies and believes. The other revels in indecision as if it is some kind of virtue! How can a nation stand when it has nothing to stand for? How can the dead destroy the living?"

"That answer, comrades, is simple: they cannot. That is why we will win today. We shall swarm into the heart of the soulless capitalist machine and bring it down. We will show Orange Star – and the world – the spirit, the glory of our nation! The enemy is blinded by our radiance! It will fight its hardest to stay out of the light that will banish it back to the abyss! But the monster has no legs with which to stand, no arms with which to fight! All that remains is to strike the head and kill!"

"Look, comrades! The winds of war bring snow! Let the enemy be buried under our unstoppable tide of white and blue!"

As Olaf said this, he placed his hand within an open tube within the Break Amplifier. His body glowed as the bars on the side of the machine filled up. Within a minute, a flash emitted from the top of the Headquarters Tower, releasing power and data into the atmosphere.

* * *

**Jefferson Tower**

**8:18 AM**

General Vance was awoken by a buzzing sound his groggy mind almost took as a Blue Moon auditory attack. He rolled over in his bed, clumsily-swinging hand first pushing around an occupied pictureframe, then an alarm clock, and finally coming to rest on his datapad. "Freaking..." He pressed a button on it, and the face of Colonel Kristoph appeared on the screen.

"Sorry to bother you, General, but I think it's starting! As the Dark Spots cleared, Blue Moon units have been spotted moving towards the capital! And we've detected a CO Power discharge!"

"What? Whose?" The General was already getting his uniform on.

"Judging from the atmospheric data, it's Olaf, sir! We've got massive snowfall around the capital area! These conditions are perfect for Olaf's troops!"

"Keep your panties on, Kristoph!" Vance growled. "We've been expecting this, haven't we? Where in the battle preparations did I give you directions to panic?"

"S-sorry, sir. I'm going to contact Fort Halberd now."

"Good, you do that. Is... _she_ already-"

"Yes, sir. She's in the Amplifier."

"Hmph. I'll be there in a few minutes." General Vance went right out into the halls and stepped briskly towards the Central Command Room.

* * *

**HQ Tower, Post Foxtrot Alpha**

**East of Jefferson City**

**8:20 AM**

Grit yawned, his footsteps soft as he walked towards the Command Room. "Didn't have to wake me so abruptly, Hadrian."

Lieutenant Nyberg's footsteps, on the other hand, were loud and clipped. "Sir! You completely missed CO-General Olaf's speech! It was amazing!"

"Eh... sorry about that. Well, I'm all rested up like Frosty wanted. So, what now?"

"The Dark Spot may have cleared in the south, but it'll be here for a few more days. He wants you to determine if Orange Star is continuing their advance, or retreating to defend the capital. Either way, flank them."

"As usual, he relies on my well-known power of omniscience to win the day." Grit sighed. "Well, I've got yesterday's Break energy all ready. I can launch a Snipe Attack whenever I want."

"That's the spirit, sir. We're going to kick ass today. I can feel it." The Lieutenant grinned.

"Let's hope. Well, it's time to start." Grit walked through the door of the Command Room, causing the staff officers in the room to turn, varying degrees of irritation on their faces. "Howdy, everyone. Great morning, ain't it?"

* * *

The buildings along the highway shook under the noise of hundreds of war machines moving towards Jefferson City. The areas around the capital had already been evacuated, so there was nobody to stop the columns of Blue Moon tanks from rolling right over anything that blocked their paths.

An airport near the Blue Moon HQ played host to several wings of fighters and bombers. Several squadrons were already in the air, following behind the tanks. Artillery, missiles, and infantry were right behind the aircraft; several more platoons of infantry rode with the armor, in APCs or even sitting on the sides of the tanks until the engagement would begin.

As of yet, no Orange Star units had come out to engage this giant army; rather, they had formed a defensive swarm along the hills south of the capital, near the city's automated factories. Blue Moon units were attacking from the west (towards Fort Halberd), the south, and the southeast; Grit's forces waited in the east, watching to see what their army there would do.

Half an hour later, as the snow fell in the skies and on the ground, Blue Moon forces made contact.

* * *

**9:20 AM**

'Pull back in the east? That's crazy!' General Vance scowled, trying to pour as much anger as he could into the Comnet.

Nell's response was as measured and even as always. 'We have to force Grit to make the first move. He'll obviously try to flank us as we retreat, but his artillery and rockets have to set up before they can attack. He'll be open. If we press the attack, he's bound to use that CO Power he's charged up.'

'Damn it. Alright, alright.' Vance turned to Colonel Kristoph. "You heard her. You handle advising for the eastern front. I've got everything around the capital aside from Fort Halberd."

"General Vance... can we really expect to hold that base?" The Colonel picked at a loose thread on his sleeve.

"We have to. If Olaf gets the factories at that base... well, we'll be in for a long one, at best. We can't let that happen."

"Yes, sir." As the Colonel hunched back over his screen, General Vance swirled his chair around and stared back at the room's central overview. _Massive amounts of armor and air... that's practically enough firepower to flatten those hills if they can't break through the highway outposts. _

'Miriam. They've already started hitting the fort?' General Vance sent his message through the Comnet.

'Lots of rockets on my end. More than anything, though, it's an air war, and that's bad news for us in this weather. That's the main threat from this snow; we could send out all our fighters and it'd be like trying to screen our bombers with toilet paper.'

'Olaf's a damn cheater, that's what.'

The Comnet rippled with General Carpenter's derisive chuckling. 'Heh. You could say we have a cheater on our side, too. Look.'

Vance stared at the screens around the room. Most of the images were obscured by smoke; however, he could see a distinct pattern starting to emerge on the screens. He could see Blue Moon shells exploding all around Orange Star's defensive positions. Yet, few of those shells had made a direct hit. Vance then looked at the image of an Orange Star armored group moving to engage a Blue Moon commando squad. A set of explosives went off on the side of the road, obscuring the tanks in flying dust; as the commandos retreated, one tank emerged from the smoke, then three more, all undamaged. The lead tank fired on the running infantry; bodies flew through the air as it scored a direct hit.

'Hmph. I guess she's good for something...' Vance turned his eyes back to the command overview. "Well, you've got your miracle, Colonel. I suppose it isn't so bad to accept it, considering the alternative."

* * *

That miracle was clearly visible to the soldiers on the front lines; however, in the face of their enemy, it seemed almost inconsequential. The snowstorm frustrated Major Neil Storch; he would have liked to have seen the situation clearly while flying towards the target. Normally Storch despised escort duty, but in light of the current situation, it seemed like a solemn task; without his squadron (and others), Orange Star would run out of bombers pretty fast. The fleet of fighters and bombers that surrounded him had one duty: halt the Blue Moon advance along the southern highway, even if that meant blowing the highway itself to kingdom come.

One thing Storch did hate about the situation, however, was flying in such icy weather. Normal snow wasn't so bad to fly in, but as things were, he had to rely completely on the Command Network and satellite feeds to see anything. The bombers flew at an altitude that was supposed to be above the clouds. This, of course, didn't hold true during one of Olaf's blizzards. It was annoying enough to deal with all the wind and hail, and yet he had to deal with enemy fighters that had perfect maneuverability on top of that.

Storch snapped out of his trance when he heard that familiar signal over the Comnet: incoming enemy fighters. "You all know what to do, guys."

One second – lasted a lifetime. Noise he knew well – a bullet hit the wing. Go left. Damn – Comnet says they're hitting one of the bombers. Nobody can see them?

Storch cursed under his breath; one pass from the Blue Moon fighters, and his aircraft's sensors had picked up nothing at all. They were coming around for another run. He knew it.

He still couldn't tell where from. Damn this snow.

"Albatross 2 here. I've taken several hits on the tail. Heading back to base."

"Pelican 1. The chaff took care of the missiles. We can probably chalk this up to luck. We're still good for the run."

Storch decided to take a guess. "Albatross Squadron, we're moving back and down a little bit. Hang behind the bombers. Blue Moon's visibility is better, but when they think we're blind, they'll get lazy."

"Got it, sir."

A minute later, Storch hit the jackpot; several Blue Moon fighters came down from the clouds, easy targets for the fighter escorts. The Major had heard that a soldier's intuition was sharpened with Nell in charge; it seemed that those rumors were correct.

However, spotting the Blue Moon fighters was only half the job. Albatross Squadron pounched on the fighters, missiles and bullets blazing through the air. In the seconds that followed, two Blue Moon fighters dropped out of the sky, and the rest disappeared into the blizzard. This was all from the corner of Storch's eye; the fighter he was chasing jerked out of his sights before he could get a missile lock.

"Pelican 1. We've reached the target zone. Preparing to bomb."

Storch saw the hatches open on the underside of the lead bomber; then, a carpet of lead fell from the sky. He felt a momentary excitement; then, his HUD started to flash red. _Missile locks! _In the blizzard, he couldn't tell where from; all he could do was take a sharp nosedive to increase his speed, while releasing the fighter's chaff. When his aircraft rocked and he felt the back half explode, he knew that Blue Moon had stationed missile launchers on the ground, and his squadron had gotten far too close.

As Storch's seat ejected from the doomed fighter, he saw one, then another of the bombers go up in flames. The only consolation he had as his body began to go numb was that this was only one skirmish of many around the capital. With all hope, those would go better than this one.

* * *

In the midst of the raging blizzard, Storch's parachute was not the only one to fail. Through death, he was to be spared the knowledge that his hopes were in vain; Blue Moon was winning the air war. Orange Star positions were subject to constant bombing, while tanks advanced from the front. The defenses repelled one, two, maybe five waves at most, but no position held for long before Nell detected their weakness and ordered the soldiers there to retreat.

The storm had only worsened as noon arrived. Orange Star's forces had fallen back to the walls, but there was still no end to the Blue Moon forces. An outside observer would declare it a war of attrition – one that Orange Star did not appear likely to win.

* * *

**Golden Fortress Main Complex**

**12:20 PM **

"Up so early?" Captain Steele quipped. She sat on the couch in the Officers' Lounge as Frank Levins entered. Steele didn't remove her eyes from the large television screen, which held several images of Orange Star soldiers and vehicles in combat, along with color-coded maps of the city. Several other officers were there too, including a couple heavily-bandaged officers on hospital beds, IVs still stuck in their bodies.

Levins would normally wonder at her casual attitude in front of the other officers, but under the circumstances he wasn't in the mood for playing around. "It's started?"

"Yep. Probably for the better, since that means the pressure's off our base. Barely enough active troops down here to even form a patrol this morning."

The Sergeant sat down. A seconds passed before he asked the question: "How many of our boys are dead?"

"The report is complete." Levins took the folder from Steele, and flipped through it, listening to the television as the words within confirmed the dark feeling in his gut.

"...no update from the Jefferson Tower about the command situation around the capital. We have confirmation that Blue Moon forces have penetrated the outer walls, with breaches in the suburban areas of Hillsboro and Milwaukee. More information as it becomes available."

Levins wordlessly handed the folder back to the Captain. "Well, now what? Nell ain't going to get back to us today at this rate."

"It's a break, then. It's good. The troops need it after what they've seen."

The officers turned their eyes back to the screen. Levins scratched at his goatee, then stared down at his fingers as though expecting to see blood. He sighed. "I'm going to get something to eat. Update me in an hour."

As Levins walked out, Lieutenant Volke turned to the Captain. "Do you really think we can win this battle?"

Steele turned to look at him. "Only Nell would know that. Fort Halberd's already fallen."

Volke began to tremble a little. "So soon?"

"Olaf went straight for the fort. The General has gotten out alive, but those automated factories at the fort... he'll have them operational again by tomorrow. It could go either way."

"With Olaf's abilities the way they are..." Volke gulped.

"I do not deny that his CO power is quite strong. While its effects measure up to – and perhaps even surpass CO-General Nell's abilities, Nell's luck control is always active, while Olaf can only create a storm on this scale once every few days." Steele motioned for a young-looking officer to bring her another coffee, then stared straight into Volke's eyes, prompting him to take a quick step back. "Relax, Lieutenant: I can offer you one piece of reassurance."

"Y-yes, Captain?"

"I guarantee that the battle won't be decided by the end of today."

* * *

**Jefferson City**

**4:30 PM**

The outer walls of Jefferson City fell, slab by slab. The bodies of the slain lay across the fields, only to be driven over by the next wave of Blue Moon armor that tried to break further into the city. Buildings across the conflict zones had been abandoned; the civilians had retreated into the heart of the metropolis.

The city had been designed with a siege in mind. Blue Moon had to penetrate three layers of walls to reach the Jefferson Tower. The second wall lay across the river from the southern Blue Moon army. The third and final wall surrounded Freedom Hill, the mound upon which the Jefferson Tower and surrounding base sat, daring all enemies to try and attack. The hill wasn't for decoration, of course; in the event that Blue Moon breached the second or third walls, it would make a great staging point for rockets.

Civilians who had made it into the inner perimeter huddled within refugee bunkers that had been established long ago, listening to the sounds of rolling thunder and dripping water from above. Nobody attempted to make conversation; the televisions in the corner reporting on the battle's progress were far more important than any small talk a stranger might wish to make.

Of course, this was mainly because it was Jefferson City, a place thought unassailable just a few weeks earlier. Most cities were used to such evacuations while a battle took place; as a result, the bunkers in conflict zones were much livelier, the news often ignored in favor of gossip.

However, there was one piece of news that prompted the refugees to quiet down immediately:

"-a surge of Break Energy from the Jefferson Tower. Yes, Anna: it appears that CO-General Nell has unleashed her CO Power."

The news was met with cheering, high-fiving, and, among the more cynical members of the bunker, an exchange of cash as the bets they had placed earlier in the day came to fruition.

On the battlefield, Blue Moon's soldiers noticed the difference immediately. Bullets no longer hit their enemy. High explosive shells discharged spectacularly before they could fire, turning Blue Moon's tanks into glorified heaps of twisted metal. CO-General Olaf's forces pressed the attack, charging uselessly against the now-energized wall of Orange Star defenders again and again. Meanwhile, Grit's small force in the east dug in, shelling the ground between the defenders and themselves to dissuade Orange Star from a counterattack.

* * *

**5:10 PM**

Up in the Jefferson Tower's command room, the situation still appeared quite grim.

Colonel Kristoph, covered with sweat, lifted his head up off the keyboard. "General Carpenter's APC has safely arrived within the second circle. She'll be at the citadel within the hour."

Vance gripped the sides of his console's screen as though it was the throat of Olaf himself. "Pfeh."

"In the last hour since Nell released her CO Power, Blue Moon hasn't broken any further into the city."

"All we're doing is holding on, and those bastards have taken Fort Halberd. With the factories there..." Vance pushed a few buttons, then glowered at the screen. "When is this goddamn snow going to end?"

"Uh, General... Olaf's Break signature is slowly leaving the atmosphere, and a natural low pressure front is moving in. With luck-"

"Pfeh."

"-it'll warm up and turn to rain in a couple hours, negating Olaf's advantage."

Vance focused tighter on the Comnet, reaching through to Nell's consciousness. 'You'd better have an idea on how to get us out of this mess.'

Nell's reply betrayed no fatigue. 'Patience, General.'

Vance felt his teeth grind together. 'Our retreat in the east has led Grit's forces right to the capital's ridge. He'll use his CO Power at any time!'

'I've deployed the remainder of our aircraft to counter that. His force is small and anti-air capabilities limited.'

'And what about Olaf? He'll be through the second wall in hours!'

'Let him. He won't get any further than that.'

Shaking, General Vance stood up, then pulled off his headset with such force that several nearby support officers jumped slightly, their concentration broken. He could feel Nell's concentration on him through the Comnet. 'I can see you cycling through my last commands. Are you second-guessing my decisions, General?'

'Do what you want, CO-General. After all, you're in command here.' Vance smiled mockingly, making sure his irritation could be felt through the Comnet. 'I'm going to deliver my report to the mainland.'

'Very well. It will be easier without you in the room, after all.' Vance though he heard a giggle over the Comnet, but dismissed it for the sake of his sanity.

* * *

**Golden Fortress Main Complex**

**5:25 PM**

"You're finally up." Sergeant Levins, sitting in the cramped officers' dining room, glowered at the recruit he'd grown to despise. "Still too much of a shit to face your squad, I see."

David Carroll stared up at the man's forehead. "I was told I have access to the Officers' Lounge now."

"Funny coincidence, kid. They also told me that you do." Sergeant Levins inwardly rolled his eyes as he passed. Well, the Captain had ordered him not to shake down the boy too badly.

David slowed down as he entered the lounge; the stares he got upon entering were the least of his wonders as he took in the large room. The couches were complete with an automated massage system, although the bullet hole in the back made it clear it wasn't operational right now. It was a bright room even in the midst of the rainy winter evening; the light fixtures that had been destroyed in the fighting had already been replaced. In fact, if it weren't for the damage to the couch and the tarp covering a broken window, David would've been surprised to learn there was a battle here at all.

He was surprised to see the Captain sitting on the couch with the other officers; the awkward way they sat showed him that they weren't used to it either. As he walked over to the couch, she turned her head and locked piercing grey eyes with him.

David sighed. "I suppose this is your way of telling me I can't refuse."

"As the Sergeant would say, 'this is the army, not summer camp.' Come and look." The Captain beckoned to the large TV screen. "Our soldiers in the capital are giving it their all."

"It's... it's started?" David ran behind the couch and stared intently at the screen.

"Yes. Come with me, recruit. I was hoping to finalize your promotion today, but current events have slowed the process considerably and now I'm waiting on approval from General Bernstein."

She stood up, and walked towards the door. David stood still for a moment, then sighed and followed. On the way out they passed Levins, who was still staring at the microwave as if that would make it work faster. He heard them pass, but didn't turn to look.

As they stepped out into the hall, David slowly realized just how deserted the base now seemed. Usually, there were many soldiers running back and forth at this time; now, there was nobody. Perhaps it was because training had been suspended. He didn't want to consider the other possibility; even the Captain seemed pained and he could tell the thought had crossed her mind too.

"Uh... Captain..."

"We're going to the Archive Room. Maybe if I put this in perspective, you'll understand."

David ran his hand along the wall as he turned the corner. "The battle at the capital..."

"It started this morning. They've entered the city and taken Fort Halberd. At this rate, it'll be a long siege."

David felt a seed of dread form in his stomach. "Are we in danger of, of losing-"

"Blue Moon's offensive is slowing down, and Olaf's snow is turning to rain. However, Nell's CO Power will run out within the hour, so we'll soon see if that's the only thing keeping us alive."

The two of them turned the corner and walked down yet another hallway that David didn't recognize. They had still passed only two soldiers, a couple of electricians from the engineering corps who looked in dire need of some rest. "This war has been a long time in coming. I don't know how much they teach you in class, but do you remember the Triple Rebellion War five years ago?"

David felt a pain rise in his chest. "I... Mom lost her legs in that war, and my uncle was-" He stopped; with his brother's _don't think about it_ he hadn't even stopped to consider the rest of his family. "Captain Steele, have the Moonie bastards taken Eugenia province in the west?"

"Not the whole thing. The northwest region... we still have a garrison up there guarding the factories. Your parents live there, right?"

"Y-yeah."

"Don't worry. The war hasn't come to them yet." The two of them reached a highly-secured door; the Captain slid her ID card into the reader, and the door slid open with a creak, revealing a room lined with computer screens and several tower-like metal boxes that David assumed were some kind of computers.

"Well, no need to be formal anymore, Recruit. What do you remember from that war?"

"The mainland... a lot of people were killed in the capital, right? And Green Earth and Yellow Comet sent spies to sabotage our bases, so we retaliated, but then Olaf led a rebellion in the south. Most of the old Blue Moon country rebuilt itself, and even part of Cosmo Land joined them. They tried to take over Orange Star, but we managed to fight them off. They destroyed our capital in the process, though."

"I see. I keep forgetting that civilians and students are only given the official version of recent history."

"What?" David blinked. "I don't understand."

Captain Steele began typing login information at a large terminal in the center of the room. "The war in Orange Star five years ago was orchestrated by former CO-General Olaf to make Blue Moon's rebellion easier."

David blinked. "Wait. All of it?"

"That's all you're authorized to know as an officer, Recruit."

David sighed. "And you want me to agree to something in return for this information?"

"I'm merely educating you on the benefits of officership. However..."

"The catch is-"

"Your power, yes. If you accept it, there's a special rank available that would grant you access to the records of that war... and this one too." The Captain turned back towards him. "It's time I explained to you exactly what you're expected to do."

"Expected?" David almost yelled. "I... I understand that this isn't a game to you, Captain. But-"

"But?"

"I can't do this."

"Even if your abilities can help save another Breakcom from meeting the same fate?"

"So you've already said yes for me. You just need to make me agree." David stared daggers at the expressionless Captain.

"Don't accuse me of using your family to influence you. I understand you are still grieving, but we're at war and we need to utilize all possible resources, or else we'll all be learning Blue Moon's national anthem soon." Steele stared back into his eyes. "Are you a soldier, David Carroll?"

David hissed. "What did you mean by saving another Breakcom?"

"Nell's looking for advisors."

"For OFs?"

"Perhaps. Even as a Projector, you have a built-in aptitude for command, so that won't be an issue."

"Built-in? You talk like I'm fresh off the conveyor belt from some factory in the countryside."

Steele's eyes narrowed. "That's not the point, Carroll. Again I ask you: are you a soldier?"

David mentally kicked a row of kittens. "I get what you're saying. Fine. I accept the offer. I don't have a choice."

"Not the best attitude, but I'll take what I can get." The Captain leaned back. "There were no Green Earth spies. The rumors on underground radio that we attacked Green Earth and Yellow Comet for land... have truth to them, but the spies were a ruse by Olaf to trigger the war."

"But... that doesn't make sense." David felt the room grow slightly colder. "Wouldn't Green Earth want to expose the truth in order to clear their name?"

"Orange Star made a deal with Green Earth and Yellow Comet." Steele typed a search query into the computer, then turned back to face David with an odd expression.

"Tell me, Recruit. Have you ever heard of the Black Hole Army?"

* * *

**Blue Moon Forward HQ**

**South of Fort Halberd**

**5:50 PM**

Inside the control room, CO-General Olaf glared up at the screen. Those nine hours of this battle so far had felt like an entire month of warfare. However, thanks to his genius planning, the battle was going well for Blue Moon. The vengeful General summoned up just enough strength to grin as he stared at the battle overview in his command console. "Just as I expected of you, Nell! But that won't be enough. Nothing will be."

He pressed a button on the console. "Sasha. Are you ready to take over the Comnet?"

"I'm ready, CO-General. Taking over control in 5 seconds."

As soon as he felt Sasha enter the Comnet, Olaf removed himself from it, and promptly fell back in his chair, panting. He groaned, only now noticing the sweat that caked his entire body. But there was still more work to do. Over the last hour, Olaf had been barraged with calls from Blue Moon Central Command; apparently, Orange Star's other COs had been busy during the assault. As the computer brought up the global command overview, Olaf narrowed his eyed and ground his teeth.

Orange Star forces from Cosmo Land's northwest coast had begun to push south, retaking several key factories. Meanwhile, Blue Moon's supply lines from the east had been sabotaged, probably by Special Forces groups. _So that's how you want to play, is it, Nell? Fine. Game on. _

Olaf sent a few short messages from the computer. First, to Grit: trigger his CO power and do as much damage as he could here, then transfer command of his forces at the capital to an OF and go east to stop the sabotage. The second was to OF-Captain Vladi: break the western counterattack and kill the commander in charge.

Next order of business: what to do with that rogue Droma. Olaf had told Grit to replace him in the east region with one of his own OFs, preferably Petrine. However, it couldn't be denied that Droma had managed to unexpectedly extend his power... "No, that can't be it." Olaf knew that much. Much more likely was that the nature of Droma's power had been misinterpreted. It seemed that his control extended to the whole environment, not just the debris of war. A pity that the man was a raving lunatic, or else his potential as a Breakcom would be immense.

Still, he would be useful as a weapon, if nothing else. They'd just have to find a way to get him under control.

Even then, his work wasn't done. Olaf sent a message to arrange a meeting contacting Blue Moon's high command council, the Stavka, knowing that it would be several hours before he would be able to rest.


	8. Venture Capital III: Evening Star

Well, the term's been a lot more busy than I ever expected, so I haven't had as much time to write. I had most of this chapter written, but it was missing something, so I've been spending the last few weeks getting it polished. Right now, it still feels like something's missing, but if I stay too perfectionist about it, then it'll never get published.

I'll try not to take too long with the next one, but I can't promise anything. Could be a couple months.**  
**

* * *

**Venture Capital III: Evening Star**

**Golden Fortress Main Complex**

**December 4, 6:00 PM**

"Black Hole?" David Carroll blinked. "You mean, the first revolt in Green Earth five years ago?"

"It's true that the Black Hole Army began as one of the uprisings that culminated in War of the Triple Rebellion." The Captain brought up several pictures on the screen; the center of the collage depicted a middle-aged man in a black trench coat, cold dark eyes framed by a tan face and white hair. "Familiar?"

Dumb question. That face was familiar to every man, woman, and child who had paid attention for even a moment to the international news five years back. As it had back then, the image chilled David Carroll's spine, even though he knew the man was not in the room. "CO-General Hawke. Black Hole's leader. Green Earth... never caught him."

"Right. And this?" The computer flipped to a picture of ruined tanks in a flooded city. The image struck David; he had seen it before five years ago, albeit digitally altered. For one thing, in the picture he remembered, those tanks had been Blue Moon vehicles.

"You're telling me... it wasn't Blue Moon that attacked the mainland capital during the war? That's ridiculous."

"Exactly." Captain Steele leaned back. "But it's true. If the people knew the full scope of the Black Hole rebellion, we'd never hear the end of it. It was thanks to Olaf's treachery we were fooled into invading Yellow Comet and Green Earth. However, efforts by former CO-Marshal Hachi and CO-General Nell contained his advance after his treachery was revealed."

Steele's eyes glazed over in memory. "Yes, back when the title of CO was considered worthy of respect in Orange Star. I'm sure you noticed, Carroll – while the news kept saying the same things about heroism and such clichés, CO-General Olaf's plot was a huge blow to us. Even today, in Blue Moon, the CO has final say on military matters. In our nation, that ever becomes further from the truth..."

"Get to the point." David wasn't in the mood for anything cryptic.

"Maybe this will make things a little more clear." Steele navigated over to a video file. "This is a record of the circumstances surrounding the attack. Perhaps this will be enough proof for my claims."

* * *

**Over five years ago, Triple Rebellion War**

**Orange Star/Blue Moon Border**

**April 27, 9:55 AM**

A canyon disappeared into the distance through the back window of an Orange Star mobile HQ. Within view were a seemingly endless column of vehicles, tanks and armored personnel carriers alike, departing from a battered garrison pockmarked with craters. Said garrison, while beaten, still proudly flew a tattered Orange Star flag.

It was a wonder that Task Force Davidian was still in one piece. What had once been a force comprised of six divisions, a fleet of battleships and cruisers, and an attached air wing had been reduced to a third of its original size, even before factoring in the wounded. The task force was commanded from a vehicle the size of a suburban house, but armed and armored twice as well as full-size headquarters. It was the only such vehicle remaining from the six that had set out to attack Green Earth.

Inside the mobile HQ's command room sat three Orange Star COs and one OF-in-training. The oldest of the COs, a white-haired yet muscular old man, was presently asleep in a makeshift bed near a hastily patched wall. The other two were engaged in an argument with a man in a dull orange uniform, obviously a military man but more resembling of a politician. His wrinkled face barely contained the pain and rage of a rabid animal, an expression only enhanced by a loud, ambient noise, like static, from his end of the call.

"Blue Moon's attack force is broken and defeated, yet... you're just going to let them get away, General?" Nell's voice had none of the calm it would hold five years later. "That... that bastard Olaf..."

"You cannot pretend you have no part in the blame, CO-Colonel!" On the other end of the transmission, a sound like a thunderclap could be heard, followed by swearing from a support officer. "Do you know how much we'll have to sacrifice to keep this disaster quiet? And one of your own kind has already run off and is doing god-knows-what! Of all of you people, CO-Colonel Grit was the **last** one I would expect to take such reckless action! His troops are no match for Blue Moon, even if they are on the run!"

"So your solution to all this is to declare a cease-fire behind our backs?" Nell looked like she was about to say more, then suddenly grabbed her chest as though in pain.

"Nell, lay off it. You're gonna kill yourself at this rate." Max grabbed her arm, but she broke his hold with surprising ease. A moment later, though, she collapsed again, gasping in pain, and Max helped her over to the beds, scolding her in quiet, inaudible tones.

The final person in the room, clearly recognizable as Sami, responded with a far more measured voice. "We understand your position, General. However, with all due respect, isn't CO-Colonel Grit an asset of ours? We can afford to just let him go."

"Yeah!" Max interrupted, running back over. "Let me go after him. I'll drag him back kicking and screaming if I have to!"

"That... might be necessary." Bernstein's look darkened even further. "As the CO-Colonel has dropped off our tracking entirely, it is highly possible that he is no longer affiliated with us."

"What? You aren't sayin'..." Max's eyes widened. "Hey, General Blockhead! You better take that one back!"

"If you have any proof that he isn't..."

"I don't need proof! Grit's my fried, not a traitor!"

Bernstein's tones turned instantly to ice. "And we've already seen how much friendship counts among your kind."

"You wanna play that game, do ya? Here's the facts, General Chump. None of us liked Olaf-"

The General pounded his desk in interruption. "Funny,you all seemed pretty buddy-buddy back when he was with us. For instance-" Before Bernstein could elaborate, a red light started flashing off to his side, and a siren sounded. He growled. "CO-Colonel Max. CO-Colonel Nell. CO-General Hachi... wherever that blasted windbag is. I... _request_ that all of you return to Titiania immediately. Besides, you really wouldn't presume to give chase with that skeleton of an army, would you?"

"Yeah, I'm coming back alright. And when I do, I'm gonna pound some sense into you!" Max punched the transceiver so hard it almost broke. "Jeez! Stupid son of a-"

**[break in video] -**

* * *

**Nearing Orange Star Mainland Capital, Titiania**

**April 27, 5:24 PM**

"...since Bernstein's transmission this morning, I've been unable to contact the capital, and neither can any of the bases close by. I wish Nell was awake..." Sami paced back and forth in front of the transceiver. The weather had taken a turn for the worse, and now bucketfuls of water fell from the sky at a rate decidedly detrimental to visibility. Some stretches of road were even fully submerged in large puddles.

"Let her sleep. After what she's been through..." Hachi was typing away at one of the consoles.

"Y-yeah. Well, we're approaching Titiania from the west now. Once we get back..." Sami gasped. "Uh, CO-General... Hachi..."

Hachi was also staring at the transceiver. "What in God's name..." he muttered. "Operator, get me a full visual!"

"Can't, sir. We're getting interference of some kind... but it's not a Dark Spot."

"Damn it!" Hachi pressed a few more buttons. "Are we still..."

"Yes, sir. No contact with the capitol building, but we're almost within short-range transceiver range with the national guard here."

"What's the big deal, guys?" Max kicked the door open and ran over to them, then switched the console to a "window" view displaying the outside of the vehicle. "Jeez, I haven't seen that kind of storm in..."

He trailed off as the mobile HQ went over the hill and the view from the valley became clear.

* * *

A few seconds of stunned silence.

"Battle!" Sami yelled. "Down in the valley! Who the hell...?"

"Operator! Battle stations!" Hachi typed at the console in a series of motions he'd perfected years ago, first bringing up a satellite map, then placing markers for all the units in his line of vision.

"CO-General!" The operator's voice. "I've established contact with the guard units; connecting their information with your tactical display now! General Bernstein is safe, and in command! They're pinned behind hostile forces, but-"

"Send messenger convoys to Fort Trace and Fort Victoria and petition them for reinforcements if they haven't already sent them! And put me in contact with the General!"

Bernstein's face appeared on the viewscreen, now displaying a confident ferocity different in quality from the indignant fury of that morning. "About time you showed up. Have any trouble on the way? We have a real shitball on our hands here."

Hachi laughed sarcastically. "Where should I start? The hostiles in our capital, the flooding in the city, or the fact they hold our main headquarters right now?"

"So. You didn't see any of them on the way here? Interesting..."

"Any of who, General? And those don't look like Blue Moon troops, either."

Bernstein's manner darkened. "They don't act like 'em either, Hachi. I want you to relieve the national guard troops at the fort and give them your Comnet. We'll hit these jokers with a three-pronged attack."

"Got it. Max, you take command of the Task Force."

As Hachi left the room, Nell arrived, swaying with drowsiness but looking decidedly less ill than before. "General. I think I know what's going on here."

Before she could continue, Bernstein's face flickered, and then a second screen turned on, displaying the torso of a man none of the commanders in the room recognized. He was a lanky, middle-aged man with thinning brown hair and what had once been a pair of night-vision goggles on his forehead – the device had been so heavily modified it wasn't clear just what it did anymore. His clean-shaven face, while bright with youthful vigor, was more wrinkled than would be normal for his age, and his light brown eyes were wide with childish irritation.

"Great, more Orange Star assholes?" The man lifted his hand and took a big bite from a candy bar. "Can you come back later, please? I'm running an experiment here, and there's no telling what'll happen if you people damage the equipment."

"You're a Breakcom, aren't you?" Nell took the man's silence as an answer. "What the hell are you doing in our capital? Who are you affiliated with? Who is your commander?"

"Sorry for the intrusion, sister, but this was the only place suitable for my current test-"

"Test?" Max looked like he was about to explode.

The man laughed, a sound like nails being driven into a animal's limbs. "The weather controller, of course. And of course, it's all going wrong. It appears my theories were completely incorrect in this case, but there is still data to be gleaned. If I'm not mistaken-"

"I asked you a question." Nell burned inside, a cold flame eating away at her guts as she started to realize what was going on. "Who are you affiliated with? What nation?"

"I forgot my introduction again, didn't I? I am CO Rush of..." He snickered. "Well, I'll let my friend answer that one. I don't care for the politics of it all. Back to the tests."

Rush's face disappeared and was replaced by what appeared to be another Breakcom. This newcomer, a broader man around the same age, wore a helmet and a faded plaid button-up shirt, sporting a patch on the front with an insignia resembling the blades of a wind turbine. His dirty blond hair was cut close to the head. He smiled, a malicious twinkle in his eye. "The nation that'll soon unite the world, of course. Or did your old friend Olaf not give you the memo?"

Max pressed a button on the console and the two faces of their enemies disappeared, drawing a shocked glare from Nell and Sami. "What? These lunatics are pissing me off, and you know they're not gonna give us anything. If we want answers, we'll have to pound it out of 'em."

"That's so rude, CO-Colonel." Max turned, startled, as the helmeted man's face reappeared on the screen, smirking sickly. "While you were away, the COs you left behind covered up our arrival in your nation."

"Billy and Olaf... so they were both in on it, as I thought." Nell glared at the screen.

"In return, we aided them a little in their rebellion. And now, all around your country, we are rising up. We are a new nation... Black Hole, born from the suffering of your people."

"What do you mean, around the country?"

"Ah, Nell. Perhaps a better question would be why you didn't run into us on your way back from the border."

Sami gasped. "You waited until we returned to the capital... and then, you signaled your armies to attack?"

"Smarter than you look."

Nell spoke up. "I thought there was a communications blackout around the city."

"Not the right question. You wealthy types always had the wrong priorities." The plaid-shirted man almost spat those words.

Nell ignored the bait. "In short, how are we going to split our forces. That's what you wanted us to consider."

"Exactly!" The man cackled. "I am Sharek, Black Hole commander representing the oppressed masses. Your people are in danger across the nation. Tell me, who will you choose to save? The elites hiding in your capital? Or the common people whose lives are ruled by your wars?"

"Or..." Sharek erupted into another fit of cackling. "Will you split your forces and lose both? The clock is ticking, you know. In less than a week, this valley you've built your capital in... it will be nothing more than the continent's latest high-elevation lake. Can your nation survive without it? I wonder, I wonder..."

By now, Nell's anger had risen to a slow, cold burn. When she spoke, it was a quiet, threatening whisper: "This time next week, Sharek, I'll be the one laughing. Mark my words."

* * *

**Present Day**

"I think that's about enough of that." Captain Steele closed the window with the video.

"So... you're kidding. Black Hole..." David reached a hand to his forehead.

"Olaf made a deal with them to leave Blue Moon alone. They flooded Titiania and destroyed a large area of our country. Black Hole was no local rebellion; they were a threat to all of Wars World."

David had another flash of the forces that had attacked his family: those black-uniformed soldiers who had made no claims of any origin country. He stared at the ceiling. "Why was this kept a secret?"

The Captain laughed a little. "What do you think the people would say if they knew? Blaming Blue Moon gives them a real threat to hate. Blaming a far-off rebellion that slipped through our intelligence net would give them a shadow to fear. Who do you think the military wants our people to worry about? Our belligerent neighbor, or a long-dead group of terrorists?"

"How do we know they're dead?" David had to ask.

"We conducted an operation in conjunction with Green Earth and Yellow Comet and destroyed their headquarters. To be truthful, we can't really be sure, but Blue Moon is a far greater threat to us right now anyways. If we see any signs of Black Hole returning, we can focus our attention back on them." The Captain looked at his shocked face. "What is it?"

"That's... that just not right." David scratched his head. "Keeping all this secret, making it look like-"

"Information is power." Captain Steele put a hand on David's shoulder; from anyone else, it would have been reassuring, but to David, the gesture was a warning. "If you have a problem, take it up with Nell. Or the soldiers that are giving their lives for us right now in the capital."

Steele withdrew her hand, leaving David shaking as she smiled down at him. "I swear, at least Breakcoms take this well. Anything else you want to know?"

David stumbled backwards until he hit the wall. "Who... who are you? The Sergeant implied you were involved in the Breakcom program, but would even a Captain know all this?"

"You're right. I was an instructor in the Breakcom training program before I requested the transfer here."

"Why? Why would you leave the... it seems more suitable for you."

Steele looked past David, her eyes unfocused. "It once was, but I've moved on."

David decided not to press the issue. "Captain... what now?"

"Now we wait for Nell to contact us. Feel free to browse any information accessible to your new clearance level." The Captain handed David a new ID card.

Rank: Special Advisor.

* * *

**Jefferson Tower**

**6:42 PM**

When Nell disengaged from the Comnet and turned control over to OF-Major Jackal, General Vance still had not returned to the Command Room. General Carpenter now sat where Vance had been hours before.

"Good evening, CO-General." Carpenter looked deflated. "Things are going a little better on your end, I see."

"A little." Nell smiled wearily. "Still, we've blunted their initial attack. About an hour ago, I expected Blue Moon to be through the second wall by now."

"We aren't out of the woods yet. Our spies say that CO-Colonel Grit is giving command to one of his OFs and sending him to the front lines. If any of their Breakcoms come to the front lines, it could be trouble."

"Grit's going back to try and stop Sami's sabotage, then."

"So it seems." The General stared out the window. "For once, I wish we had more OFs available, but President Drapela refuses to authorize any more transfers to Cosmo Land."

"Probably for the best. We don't want to leave the mainland vulnerable."

"So what?" Carpenter said. "If we fall here, there won't be anyone left to defend the mainland anyways."

"If necessary, I will go out to confront these OFs myself. Can't let some youngsters get a one-up on me, now can I?" Nell walked towards the door.

"Ah. I won't keep you." The General turned her eyes back to the screens.

Nell turned her head at the door. "General... you shouldn't forget to rest either."

"Hah... I won't push myself. Have a good sleep when you can get to it."

* * *

**Fort Halberd HQ Tower**

**7:15 PM**

OF-Colonel Sasha did not want an advisor right now, nor did she feel she needed one. The Comnet Trance was hardly an ideal escape from reality – after all, she couldn't afford to make any mistakes – but the last thing she needed right now was an idiot second-guessing her ideas.

Yet, Captain Skliarenko had insisted on advising her in the battle. He may be a good tactician, but when it came to large battles like this, he tended to ask too much of the troops. Well, let him try. Even though he has the strategic capacity of a baked tuna, he'll probably spend the whole evening obsessing over the failure at the Golden Fortress, so he wouldn't get in her way.

In contrast, Sasha was used to coordinating this kind of battle. As she cycled through the divisions under her command, though, she could see that even though they had captured Fort Halberd, there was a long way to go. Unfortunately, the amount of experience she had with the Comnet meant that she still had enough mental capacity to think while in the trance, so there was no escape here from her irritation.

Orange Star had deployed commando units throughout the territory Blue Moon occupied, using a network of hidden tunnels under the city. Short of razing all the abandoned buildings, there was nothing she could do to end their guerilla-style attacks; whenever an enemy position was identified, they were gone within a minute. She brought up her dossier on the enemy OF in command: a Major, codenamed "Jackal". Extremely skilled at coordinating attacks... when the situation's under her control. When the bullets start flying back, not so much.

_Clever, Nell. So our ground forces will be in danger even if we don't press the attack._

The forward companies were now resting while the reserves moved to the front lines. However, several groups were forced to stay behind to protect their supply lines, leaving Blue Moon's forces without much forward momentum. All Sasha could do was coordinate the Spetsnaz and hope to outmaneuver an OF who had the positional advantage.

* * *

**Jefferson City**

**South Sector, within the First Wall**

**Blue Moon-Occupied Territory**

**7:30 PM**

A shower of water fell through the damp evening air and came down on the backs of Scout Squads 3-5 and 3-6 as they made their way across the rubble-covered roads, the sounds of battle and car alarms echoing across the dead city. Supposedly, there were no Bowlheads in this area, and yet according to the Comnet, raiders had already hit the other camps in this area. The main army was resting for the night, but there were apparently no areas in the city that could be considered real safe zones.

Sergeant Gurov scanned the dark street, peering out at the green-tinted world he was so used to. It was situations like this his squads excelled at, although he was annoyed that this kind of mission would be necessary in what was supposedly a secure area. Any lesser scouts would become complacent; he was sure that was the only reason these raids were working. Well, that was urban combat, especially this deep in enemy territory.

Gurov's squads moved along cover, scanning the shadows for any signs of movement. They couldn't see it above the clouds, but the sounds of aircraft filled the night. The rain didn't help matters; Gurov had fought in worse conditions, but the reflections off the water interfered with the output of his IR goggles. Any heavier and they'd have to go without it, a hazardous idea.

The tension rose to a crescendo as they approached the next building on their patrol route. This was where a small Bowlhead squad had been detected by their sats a quarter of an hour ago. This one was a small one, thankfully, the size of a large house, standing out in the midst of the high-rise structures that surrounded it. Squad 3-5 peered into the burned-out doorway, inspecting the entryway for traps, then entered slowly, the surveyor of the squad inspecting the walls to make sure it wasn't about to collapse. Gurov and his squad waited outside, some pressed against the walls, some circling into the alleyway to make sure no Bowlheads were waiting with a detonator.

The white noise that now filled the night increased in volume, and Gurov felt his back grow increasingly damp. He ignored it. The squad returned from the building, giving a hand signal: all clear. Gurov looked at the building; apparently, it had been a souvenir shop until today.

The next structure on their patrol route was much larger: an old metal warehouse. Gurov ignored it; Blue Moon was already using it as a supply point and shelter.

Across the street, Gurov's squads reached a high-rise building, perhaps a banking office. This one hadn't taken any apparent damage during the battle. These were the most difficult; he really couldn't declare a building like this all-clear, especially not since Orange Star had developed countermeasures to thermal vision. That way, his squad had to investigate deviations in the patterns that could well be an anomaly. All that could be done would be a rough check through the building. If there was anyone hiding in the upper floors, standard procedure was to leave it to the snipers Blue Moon had stationed in the skyscrapers.

As Gurov entered the building, he heard a rustling across the room. His squadmates turned their rifles towards the source, then relaxed as they saw it was just a stray cat running away. They trekked through the building; aside from the broken glass all over the floor, a lot of the office on the bottom floor was mostly intact. The elevator looked fully functional (not that he'd be dumb enough to try it out) and was even still hooked up to the building's emergency power system. Even the secretary's computer was still on, abandoned on the login screen as the civilians had fled to the shelters.

Gurov made a note over the Comnet that the building might have financial records that their hackers could access, marking it on the "map" in the network. His soldiers searched the first five floors and found nothing unusual, then moved on. In fact, it would not be until his next patrol shift that Sergeant Gurov would make contact with enemy soldiers.

* * *

**Golden Fortress Main Complex**

**8:04 PM**

David had returned to the archive room upon hearing that Nell was now available to speak with him. He felt awfully numb about the whole idea, and not just because of the bad news she had delivered the last time they'd spoken.

Captain Steele was still there, scanning information about the battle on her terminal. Seated at one of the smaller terminals was the Sergeant, with an expression that told David that the man really wished these computers had Solitaire installed.

Come to think of it, David had noticed some changes around the base. This time, the hallways didn't seem as wrecked as earlier in the day. Maybe that OF Andy had something to do with it.

As David entered, the Sergeant stood up and walked over to the main terminal. "Alright. The kid's here. When are we getting to work?"

"Patience, Frank." The Captain sighed.

"I know, she's busy." Levins sat back down. He opened his mouth slightly, then shook his head a little.

A minute passed in silence. Then, a ringing noise came from the main terminal, and a second later, a screen appeared with the star symbol of the Orange Star military. The Captain pressed a button, and the face of CO-General Nell again appeared on the screen.

"Captain Steele. Sergeant Levins. Recruit... no. Special Advisor Carroll."

"Ma'am." David saluted.

"I wish we could meet your promotion with more fanfare, Advisor, but I'm pretty sure that's the last thing on your mind right now. Well, I'll cut to the chase."

Nell shifted over a little, but her slight smile and formal expression did not change. "For the last six years, Orange Star has been embroiled in its worst crisis since the Great World War. In light of the latest shift in this conflict, I have made the decision to appoint veteran soldiers as Special Advisors to our COs. You have been called here today because I am putting you under consideration for those positions."

David hid his surprise under his gloom, and Captain Steele looked to have already known. The Sergeant, in contrast, was left gaping at the screen. "CO-General... I..."

"You have a question, Sergeant?"

"I have a responsibility at the Golden Fortress. I can't leave these kids hanging. Not like they are now."

"That has been taken into consideration. Future training of Platoon 4 will be taken over by Sergeant Dracov from OF-Lieutenant Andy's support staff."

"Wh-" The Sergeant bit his tongue. "Our appointments are immediate, then?"

"You will depart when the situation stabilizes; you may even have time to finish training this platoon before you leave. You do not need to worry about defense of this position; OF-Lieutenant Andy has begun construction of a war factory within the base perimeter. Captain Steele will leave later."

"Fl- Captain, you've already agreed to this? You could've told me!" Levins' expression was somewhere beyond anger.

"You were preoccupied." The Captain continued to stare at Nell's image.

"Special Advisor Carroll. You are to stay here and undergo field training for your position. Captain Steele will supervise."

"Yes, ma'am." _Though none of this makes any sense to me..._

"Perfect. I will contact you again as soon as possible. For now, remain at the Golden Fortress in case Blue Moon does decide to attack. I'm sure you will make our nation proud."

"Yes, General." Captain Steele saluted as Nell's image disappeared from the screen.

"Captain... permission to speak frankly?" David had something he needed to ask, but seeing Nell had been more intimidating than he had expected.

"Go ahead, Advisor."

"Why is Nell picking a kid fresh out of training for something like this? I mean, the future of the country is riding on this. Wouldn't it make a lot more sense to pick an experienced officer?"

"Or a more stable one," Levins chimed in. He looked like he wanted to say more, but a warning look from Steele stopped him, and he sighed, staring a hole in David's head.

Steele smiled a little. "I think I know what Nell has in mind. She's been known to assign partners based on who might work well together. It will make sense to you soon."

"Captain, can we talk? Without the kid here?" The Sergeant shuffled his feet.

"I'm fine with it, Captain, as long as you don't need me for anything else." David turned to leave.

"Sure." Steele sighed. "Special Advisor is a unique rank, Carroll. You don't need my permission to leave anymore."

"Then I'll be going for now. You know how to reach me." David hurried out the door.

"Stupid kid," Levins growled. "Flora, just what the hell do you see in him?"

"I remember a certain someone wasn't much better when he started out." Steele finally displayed a full smile.

"Pfeh." Levins returned to the terminal near the entrance and sat back down, lightly kicking aside one of the reading desks on the way. "I wasn't nearly as bad. I mean, the kid doesn't even know what he's fighting for."

"Perhaps. I think Nell intends that he find it here."

"So, she's gonna partner him with..." The Sergeant frowned. "Won't that just mess up the kid's brain even more? I mean, if he really is that similar to the kid's brother..."

"Maybe it'll help him get over it. But that wasn't what you wanted to talk with me about, was it?"

Levins didn't turn around. "Come on, Flora. I thought we were planning to stay here a while."

"That used to be the plan." Steele sighed. "I know you were never a patriot, Frank, but how long do you think we'll be able to stay together if Blue Moon takes over?"

"So... the moment we dreaded is here, huh. And you made the decision for me."

"Hey, that's my authority as your commander." Steele began to pace around the room. "If we stay here, we risk being taken prisoner, and you know that I'll be marked for death as a Projector after that stunt I pulled during the attack. With COs at our sides, our chances of survival increase dramatically."

"Fine, fine. You win, as usual." Frank Levins stared off into space. "You've already guessed who we'll be assigned to if we pull this off, huh?"

"CO-Lieutenant Rachel is still at the mainland, so there's only two choices."

"Hm." Levins snapped back to attention. "I guess working with Max might not be that bad. But of course, you get the dangerous job again."

Steele laughed. "You want to switch?"

"I swear, you make light of the strangest things," Levins said.

"One of us has to. Well, about time we got back to the lounge. We don't want to get the officers whispering again, after all."

"Ugh. Don't remind me." The two of them took one last look around the room to make sure the terminals were logged off, then walked back into the hallway.

* * *

**December 5, 1:50 AM**

The evening operations continued as before. Blue Moon sharpshooters took up positions on the rooftops, while Orange Star commando teams continued probing conquered territory, looking for weaknesses in the Blue Moon army's positions. Blue Moon's forces attempted to push forward in the western area of the city, but broke off the attack as the rain reduced visibility far too much to continue.

The rain only grew heavier as the night continued, yet even as December 4th had ended and the next day had begun, Orange Star's commandos continued to operate. Blue Moon was able to stop some of them, but they knew the city better than the Blue Moon scouts, and were able to evade detection most of the time. Even so, Blue Moon's losses were trivial compared to the size of the assault. That stormy night was only a lull in the battle; the next day, fighting would begin anew.

On both ends of the battle, an OF sat in their command chair, focusing on moving around their troops. OF-Colonel Sasha sat alone in concentration; OF-Major Jackal, a woman of 22 years and a small frame, had many others in the room. Over the din of the room's equipment, one could still hear the loud music blaring into the OF-Major's headphones. Even in the Comnet trance, a crazy grin was fixed on her features, as if painted there. The other support officers in the room seemed afraid of this monster in their midst. Her long-haired, shades-wearing advisor, Captain Allen, sported a lazy grin as he slowly stared around the room.

The tension in the room increased as the battle continued, until one point in the middle of the night, during a lull in the action: "She's not bad, ya know." Allen stood near the command chair, chewing on a rations bar.

"Wh-what?" One of the support officers spoke up.

"Ya know. Ain't a wild beast the best sort to take on a horde of demons like these Moonies?" Allen smiled, a malicious look visible behind his half-circle shades. "And far as wild beasts go, Jackal's the best there is. So I ain't gettin' why you're all freaked."

The rest of the officers in the room remained silent. Allen sighed. "Figures. Everywhere, all the same." The Captain started looking around the room, glowering at each support officer in turn. "Well, at least someone here get on that report I asked for."

"Sir. We've compiled a list of confirmed kills and losses from the Comnet."

"Yeah, yeah, gimme that." Instead of waiting for the unfortunate man to send it over to his portable console, Allen walked over to the officer and stared down at him until he scrambled out of his seat. Allen sat down and leaned back, putting his feet up against the wall behind the terminal. After scrolling through the report, he proceeded to visually devour all the rest of the information on the screen, much to the displaced officer's irritation. "Sir... I have-"

"Wait your turn, Lieutenant Droopyconkers. Or do ya got a complaint?"

After a full three minutes, Allen laughed a little, then got up from the terminal and returned to leaning against the command chair, his head as far back as his neck could take it. "Hah. Everything cool, then. Keep it up, lackeys."

* * *

**Golden Fortress Officers' Quarters**

**3:00 AM**

David felt the darkness in his new room close in around him, lazily sailing through his frail flesh like the humid air of a stormy night. He no longer knew why he was going along with such a crazy idea. Him, an advisor? Ridiculous. His squadmates wouldn't understand; they'd just consider it an honor. Well, he had no intention of trying to explain it to them. The Sergeant would just yell at him, and the Captain was cold as ice.

The boy hadn't expected an easy ride when he became a soldier, but he'd trusted that he would at least have people he could trust around him. A ridiculous, romantic notion pulled from the most whitewashed of war movies, perhaps. Even so, David had felt that he had been living in that reality throughout his training. But now, one of his squadmates was dead, and he could no longer face the rest of them. Even his brother was gone, perhaps forgotten in the pile of corpses littering the country. And all for what?

David knew his superiors couldn't be trusted. He couldn't figure out the reason Captain Steele had told him about Black Hole, but he knew what the true purpose of it was: to show what could happen to Orange Star if the country wasn't protected.

How pointless. He already knew the country had to be defended against Blue Moon. He had seen the invaders with his very eyes, shooting to kill. The head of the damn army herself had told him he had the country at his back.

None of that mattered to David. All he could feel was solitude.

* * *

**OF Jackal**

Rank: Major

Affiliation: Orange Star

Skill: Increased base attack power. Loses extra attack power as HP is lost. Lower defense than a CO.

Power: SURGICAL STRIKE *****

No enemy counterattacks this turn.

Secondary special forces commander and Nell's part-time advisor. She's an uptight tactician with a short fuse.

Hit: Cards

Miss: Dice

"You... you're dead."


	9. ACT II: Field Training I: Reality

****Author's Note: Wow, it's been a while, hasn't it? I've been bogged down trying to revise this chapter to include what I've learned during Nanowrimo, but it's all part of the learning experience, I guess. Looking back on it, there are a lot of things I would've done differently if I started the story now, but I've already revised several older chapters, so I won't stick myself on the would've-should've and I'll just move on with the story.

Here the story starts to reconnect with the main game's storyline. It also shows a taste of just what a CO is capable of when fighting. I apologize for the 3-month break. Well, time to get this story moving again, shall we?

* * *

**Act II: Retaliation**

**Field Training I: Reality**

**Golden Fortress Mess Hall Kitchen**

**Three and a half days later**

**December 8, 11:10 AM**

The disappearance of David Carroll from public sight had become a major subject of discussion for the recruits of Training Squad 4. With the shock of the battle less than two days ago still fresh in their minds – as well the death of a squadmate – the three remaining squad members had nothing real to talk about except for the fight in the capital... and the whereabouts of Pits.

Captain Steele had prohibited the officers from talking about David. As such, rumors had begun to spread throughout the recruits. In Training Squad 4, the traditional roles of skeptic and rumormonger had changed. The superficial injuries the squad had taken were gone; however, they were still in no condition to finish their training. In the eyes of Sergeant Levins, though, they were rested enough for cleaning duty.

"I tell you, that was Breakcom skill right there." Turd idly mopped the same spot on the floor over and over. "Didn't you see it? Pits... he was like a beast shooting 'em dead."

"Sure. As if you weren't too busy wetting your pants to watch." Sticks sat in the corner, scrubbing in the cracks of the floor. "Forget it. Pits is gone, and they're never going to tell us where he is."

Far sighed and remained silent, as usual. Sticks and Turd turned to look at her. "Didn't you see anything?" Turd asked. "Nah, you were actually fighting, weren't you..."

Silence reigned in the kitchen for a few minutes as the Squad halfheartedly continued their work. Then, Sticks spoke up: "Why aren't they letting us watch the battle for the capital? Isn't that more important than any of this cleaning crap?"

"Typical idiot grunt." Turd and Sticks looked over as Far spoke up. "The days following an attack is the best time to enforce discipline. Otherwise, the base will cease to function. What's happening at the capital is only a distraction from the task in front of us."

"Yeah, that's bullshit." Turd threw his mop across the room. "I'm going to go look for him."

"What?" Sticks almost screeched. "If you're caught, Sarge will whip all three of us!"

"Then come with me. Or try to stop me, if you think you can." Turd glared down at the two of them defiantly. "We deserve to know where Pits is. Is that really so much to ask?"

Another moment of silence. Then, Sticks stood up and followed Turd out. As the two left the room, Far rolled her eyes, then left with them.

"Alright, here's the plan. We split up and go looking everywhere that's not locked. If you see Sarge, hide somewhere. Any other officer, just make up something."

"I thought you said you had a plan," Far quipped. Turd responded by turning and heading down the hall.

"Why... why's he so..." Sticks muttered.

"Apparently the guy did save his life," Far observed. "Though I didn't peg him as the grateful type."

"What do we do now?" Sticks asked.

"Leave him be. We're going to finish cleaning." Far grabbed the thin kid by the arm and dragged him back into the kitchen.

* * *

**Golden Fortress Officers' Lounge**

**90 minutes ago (9:40 AM)**

It had become a morning ritual: upon awakening, all officers would stop in the lounge and get an update on the battle for the capital. Captain Steele had taken to giving the staff a summary of the previous day's events in order to keep things operating at the base; there was no more time to halt the base's operations.

Thanks to Andy's help, the base had received a major facelift since the attack. The walls had been repaired and the artillery had been upgraded to remote emplacements. In fact, the walls around the base had been expanded to cover some of the valley behind the mountain pass, and in that area Andy's troops had built a brand-new factory which was now churning out tanks to replace the losses from the battle.

Of course, that equipment would be useless without soldiers. Reinforcements were arriving by the day, in the form of survivors from Blue Moon's initial blitz that had been rescued from their captors by Sami's division. The Golden Fortress was slowly becoming a foothold from which Orange Star could operate in the Alara Region; Blue Moon currently didn't even have an OF there yet. Of course, that wouldn't be a good move yet, and the rescued soldiers were not yet reorganized.

Captain Steele got up in front of the large TV, which now displayed several graphs and a map of Jefferson City. "I'd like to summarize the last 24 hours of the battle for you."

"The rumors are true; Blue Moon has broken through the second wall at three locations." Steele circled three spots on the map, all in the southwest of the city. "The civilian shelter areas are currently still under Orange Star control, but supply lines leading out of the city have been cut off. Of course, even if that were not the case, Olaf's new blizzard has blocked the roads out anyways."

Steele shifted the map over. "We do have good news, though. Three of Blue Moon's four close-range airbases have been destroyed by our commandos, forcing their aircraft to go further away from the city to resupply. Additionally, our anti-air units have shot down most of the aircraft that participated in the first days of the battle. The net result is that Blue Moon air support has been stunted considerably, while our airbases at Jefferson Central are still operational."

A colored overlay appeared on the map, displaying the progress of Blue Moon's unit throughout the last 24 hours. "I won't lie; though we've inflicted far more casualties, Blue Moon's march through the city hasn't slowed as much as we would have hoped. Therefore, it remains a very real possibility that Jefferson Central will be the only Orange Star position left standing within a matter of days. Blue Moon hasn't been distracted by our raids in the west and east; all that has done for us is draw Blue Moon's OFs away from the battle. However, it is further proof that Blue Moon is pursuing an all-in strategy by attacking Jefferson City. If we can weather this tide, it will be a perfect opportunity for counterattack."

"That's it for now. Any questions?" Steele looked around at the audience. "Very well. You have your assignments for today. No new deviations from standard procedure."

Steele's next destination was the officers' gym, which had been closed since the attack. In truth, all the damage it had taken was now repaired. No; the room had been converted by Andy into a special course requested by Steele. All this for the training of Special Advisor David Carroll.

The subject in question did not arrive for another half hour. When he finally stumbled in, rubbing his eyes, Steele immediately charged in and launched her foot at his side. Unlike the last two days, David quickly dodged it.

"Good. You're improving."

"I won't let you humiliate me like that again." David stepped up. "Are you trying to drag things out or something? For the last few days, all you've been having me do are meditation and attention exercises."

"That'll change today. We're going to learn how to draw out your power without you snapping into a trance." Steele pressed a couple of buttons on her console, quickly checking the news, then put it away before David noticed.

"This isn't like what they talk about in movies, visualizing spaces and all that crap. In reality, it's just like flexing a muscle that most people don't have. As such, it'll take a little bit of practice to get your power to work properly, but that's not what I'm aiming to do." Steele stared into his eyes. "Rather, your command ability is more important. Once you're able to tap into your power at will, that instinct for command will remain with you for life."

"And the point of this?" David started doing stretches.

"We have to take pressure off the capital. In approximately one week, OF-Lieutenant Andy's forces will launch a counterattack from this location. That will act as your field training."

David froze. "What? You're deploying me in one week? That's insane!"

"You'll understand when you can tap into your abilities. At the very least, you'll have the mental capacity to handle a small part of the operation, while Andy takes care of the bulk of the assault."

"This doesn't make sense. Nothing about the Break system makes sense. It shouldn't be possible to gain that kind of knowledge automatically."

"I know, right?" Captain Steele chuckled. "Alright. It's time to begin." With that, she took out a pistol from her holster and fired it at David's face with a loud bang.

David fell backwards, realizing only after a moment that it was water and not blood that was producing the wet sensation he felt across his entire face.

Steele smiled slightly. "Of course I wouldn't actually shoot you. That idea has proven quite disastrous in the past. This was just to get your adrenaline pumping."

David stayed on the ground, catching his breath as his heart pounded out a breakbeat. "Damn you..."

"Take a few seconds if you need to. When you're ready, we're going to fight."

David didn't move. "Fight? How?"

"Hand to hand, of course. I won't use my abilities yet, but you'll likely need yours to survive."

David sat there for what felt like an eternity to Steele. She frowned. "Or I could attack you on the ground. Do you want that?"

The young man scowled and slowly stood up. The two officers stared each other in the eyes; David daring the other to make the first move, Steele wondering if the boy would be bold enough to do it himself.

As it turned out, he wasn't. After a second of waiting, Captain Steele pushed forward in the blink of an eye, her right fist coming in straight towards David's head. David ducked to his right, then countered with his own right, a wide haymaker from far out. Steele deftly ducked under the punch and responded with a punch just above David's ankle, sending him tumbling sideways onto the floor.

David glared up at her as he stood. To Steele, it wasn't a defiant glare, but one that reflected a feeling of defeat. She waited for him to strike again; when he didn't, she tossed the water pistol at him like a stone. As he ducked, she dived in again, attacking with a flurry of punches as he curled his arms in front of him. Steele frowned, grabbed his right arm, and pulled him upwards. As she did, he struck with his left knee, aiming under her ribcage. However, she pulled him up more quickly than he expected, and his knee hit on the surface of the rib. Steele smirked and tossed him across the room, where he struck the ground and slid a few feet across the polished wood floor.

"At least you have some fight in you. But I recall saying this was a fight, not a drill exercise." Steele walked slowly towards him as he picked himself up. "Don't stop to dust yourself off, Carroll. We aren't through until I say so."

David stared into her eyes but didn't take the bait. Steele shook her head. "This isn't going to work unless you push yourself. Or do you plan to die just like your brother did?"

"You bitch!" That got the desired reaction out of the boy. David charged at the Captain, grabbing an overturned metal target plate on the way and holding it in front of him like a shield. Steele laughed and punched it out of his hands and into his face. David jerked back, a few drops of blood falling from his face, then kicked off and tackled the Captain, knocking the two of them towards the ground. She grabbed the front of his uniform and pulled him towards her head, sending him over her body and onto the floor. As he struggled to stand up, she stomped on his back, causing spit to fly from his mouth and a gurgling scream.

As Steele stomped on his back a second time, she felt a shift in the Break energy around her, and took a step back. David got up slowly, but there was a change in his movements. As he turned around to look at her, she could see a red glint in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

"That was a mistake," the young man said, his voice suddenly like sandpaper.

"Really?" Steele raised her eyebrow. "More confident now, are we?"

"I'll let you jerk me around like a puppet all you want, but you don't talk about Ralphie like that. You have one chance to take that shit back."

"Make me." The officer smiled as the boy slowly walked towards her, staring at her more like prey than another human. As he got close, he suddenly charged forwards, sending a flurry of punches at the Captain. She deftly rolled to the left, circling to his side and punching just above the boy's right hip.

This time, he dodged the blow, stepping away from her fist and responding with a hard left hook that caught Steele on the side of her face. She took the hit without moving, and as David moved to follow up with a right hook, she reached out and grabbed at his hand with her right. David changed targets, straightening his arm and punching her above the elbow. As he charged forward, arms pummeling forward, Steele couldn't back off fast enough and took several body blows. Then, the area under her feet glowed, and she pushed off the ground in an instant, landing about five meters away.

"Perfect. Time for lesson two," she said, her voice steady despite the hits she had taken. Indeed, aside from a wrinkled uniform and a little blood on her face, there was hardly any sign she had been hit at all.

"I said TAKE IT BACK!" David copied her maneuver, building up energy at his feet and leaping forward with his arm drawn back. She barely had time to widen her eyes before his high-momentum punch crashed down on the side of her head.

And yet she didn't react; in fact, it was David who screamed, his hand engulfed by the sensation of having just tried to punch a tank. As Steele's right fist came at David, the threat lines crossing his mind spoke of a far greater damage area than her body displayed. It was as though her arm had become the size and weight of ten artillery shells. The blow knocked David across the room and into the wall, leaving a web of large cracks in the sturdy concrete.

"And lessons two and three right there. Are you aware now?"

David tried to stand up, but fell over again. Steele went through a couple light arm stretches as she spoke. "Comnet abilities aren't at their strongest when your life is in danger. They tend to awaken due to strong emotion or conviction... or similar things."

"...urgh..."

"What I'm saying is based on the evidence, saying something like that was the only way to bring out your abilities. This time, you can still feel that energy around you, right? The sweet, golden mist that dances through the air?" Steele walked across the gym towards him again. "That cushion of power which broke your fall and stopped my blow from killing you outright? That energy you brought to your feet to leap like that?"

"Stay... away... monster..." David stopped struggling to conserve his strength.

"From the way you fought... your ability. It's a Threat Web, right? You can sense where the lines of threat in the world are and will be, and you can move to avoid them or direct your threat lines into the enemy for a certain chance of connection."

"I said... shut up." David glared up at her. "You're just like the Sergeant, aren't you?"

"I know I'm pushing you beyond your limit, and I won't deny that I do somewhat enjoy your torment. However, this is for the good of Orange Star. I can sense that power around you fading already."

"Like hell I'll let it happen." David stood up fully. Captain Steele saw that this time, he had a full aura of Break Energy surrounding him. "I won't give you any excuse to screw with me again!"

"Very well. Let's continue, then."

The two of them continued fighting for the next 10 minutes, steel versus senses. Eventually, David fell to the ground, unable to move. Steele sat down in front of him. "It feels hard to pull in more energy from the air, doesn't it?"

David couldn't even respond. Steele continued, "Break Energy is generated as a side effect of the battle. Since we're in a peaceful area right now, there isn't much more available in this room. Breakcoms and Projectors can preserve some in their bodies, and the Break Amplifier can contain and focus a large amount, but prolonged storage can be hazardous."

Steele stared at the young man for a few seconds, waiting for a response. When none came, she stood up and started to note the damages to the gym on her datapad. "That's enough training for now. Do the mental exercises I've assigned you, and if your powers haven't regressed by tomorrow, we'll be doing a less violent form of training as a break."

"Hey."

Steele turned around. "Yes?"

"At least... that awful cold feeling... disappeared... quickly." David's face, though covered in blood, held a relaxed look, something that hadn't even come to his features in sleep.

"Good. That wasn't so bad, was it?" Steele stood up and offered David a hand; the young man used it to pull himself up.

"Just so you know... I'm still angry." David brushed himself off.

"As expected."

"Hey, Captain..." David said. "Why do you fight?"

Steele froze up. "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering."

"I..." Steele sighed. "I owe Orange Star a great debt. Especially CO-General Nell. I'll tell you about it when you aren't angry."

"Heh. That could take a while." David walked with her towards the door. The two soldiers left the gym, the tension not fully drained from their bodies.

* * *

**11:20 AM**

After David was sure that Steele was no longer following him, he turned and walked back towards the center of the base, back towards the data room. He marched into the room, entered his login information, and waited as the computer brought up the files he wanted, every moment stretching longer and longer until his impatience boiled over and he kicked over a chair. As the loud noise echoed down the halls, he froze; as several seconds passed with no other sound than the groan of the base's heating system, he relaxed a little.

When David had felt that power again – when he saw those lines of threat appear throughout his perception, and this time not just in his vision, but his hearing and scent – he knew that there was something he had to know. Something he had to see. He knew now that he wasn't helpless, that he had a power granted only to a select few. And by accepting that power, there was a responsibility he had taken on, one that mattered more to him than anything for Orange Star.

The computer beeped, and David brought up the file: his brother Ralph's personal dossier. He scrolled down across the details of his military service, and found a link to the file he had been looking for. As the information was downloaded from Orange Star's network, he felt his heart race again.

At last, the file he was looking for. The official report on the death of OF-Major "Coral". Ugh, that very name made him flinch.

Confirmed to have been killed in action on November 24th, early morning, while serving near the border regions. Body never recovered, presumed taken by Blue Moon. David felt his teeth clench.

Break Energy fluctuations in the area of engagement indicated... a direct confrontation between two Breakcoms? Goosebumps rose on David's skin as he scrolled down. Multiple Breakcoms known to be in the area at the time, including CO-General Olaf, self-proclaimed mastermind of the invasion. However, the OF who engaged Coral (David flinched) had been identified, based on a photograph taken by Orange Star spies.

David almost fell over in his seat. There it was – a photo of a slouching man with long, silver hair, a long, thin rifle strapped on his back and a pistol on his belt, a long black coat, and soulless eyes. And there, in his right hand...

It was unmistakable. In his hand was a badge shaped like a gold star, his brother's picture emblazoned in the center.

David scrolled down some more, a thrill of anger and revulsion running through his body. OF-Captain Vladi, "The CO Killer", threat level red. Sound-based abilities. Very high Break storage potential. Offed two other OFs as well.

David knew it. This was the man he had to kill.

Suddenly, a shout from the hallway: "God damn it, who the hell keeps putting these locks on everything?" The noise sent David falling backwards in his chair with a yell of surprise; then, the chair fell over and David crashed to the floor. He knew that voice to be Turd's.

"Huh? Hello? Who's in there? Pits, is that you?" A knocking on the door. David scrambled backwards, hiding behind one of the bookcases. He knew that Turd couldn't get inside without a keycard, but he would've needed a keycard to get into this part of the base to begin with! What he he'd swiped one from a guard? David couldn't face him, he just couldn't-

"Hello? Come on, man, open up! I know you're in there!" Ah, good. He didn't have a card. Well, he could suspect David was inside all he wanted. There would be no way he could get in.

"Jeez! What, are you mad at me? Do you think it's my fault Wreck died or something? Is that it? Or what? Just come out and talk to me!"

David kept quiet. Just how long would it take for this idiot to leave?

"Just open the- aw, shit." Footsteps going away from the door, another set of footsteps coming closer. David took the chance to run back to the computer and log off.

As the footsteps faded into the hallway, David considered making a break for it. No, that wouldn't work. But-

"Recruit! I hope you have a good explanation for dirtying up the **officers' area** with your maggot boots!"

"What? Oh, hey, Sergeant, er, sir!"

It wasn't Levins, but some other David was relieved that someone had finally caught him. As his heart slowed back to its normal pace, he started to wonder: why had Turd been looking for him?

David quickly banished the thought from his mind. He logged back in, then brought up Vladi's full profile.

Recruited by Orange Star 8 years ago, first fought in a war against Green Earth. Made a name for himself as a commander, but preferred to go out into combat himself. Almost killed by Green Earth CO Hawke during the war. During the Orange Star civil war, sided with the Blue Moon faction. Reportedly refused promotion from the rank of Captain so that he wouldn't lose the opportunity to command from the field. Two years ago during a territory dispute over colonial islands in the Eastern Ocean, he killed a Green Earth CO named Kyrie. Hm... David pulled up another article related to that incident.

The Canasta Islands, an area far south of the Yellow Comet mainland. Heavy oil reserves had been discovered there, in addition to the iron mines that had been known for a century. Green Earth had been given the island in an agreement with Orange Star after Blue Moon was annexed, but once Blue Moon's revolution was complete, they demanded the island back. Green Earth sent their infantry specialist, Kyrie, to the island with a large army as a show of force. Two Blue Moon OFs, Vladi and Petrine, encircled the island with their fleet, and as the battle went on, Vladi infiltrated their airfield and destroyed it. Green Earth's fleet under CO-Admiral Drake broke a hole in the blockade, but when they arrived, Kyrie was dead and Vladi claimed responsibility. Since the incident, the island has been a warzone, and the nations' Cosmo Land borders have been subject to raids by both sides.

That didn't make any sense, though. When Blue Moon invaded, that would have been the perfect opportunity for Green Earth to launch a larger attack. No doubt they offered Green Earth a deal under the table, such as a free slice of Orange Star's Cosmo Land territory. Come to think of it, Orange Star's relations with Green Earth hadn't been too hot either. Yellow Comet, on the other hand... the other nations had to stay on their good side in order to retain access to the International Command Academy, which was technically on Yellow Comet's turf.

David put those questions into action, reading up as much as he could about it before his next training session that afternoon.

* * *

**Golden Fortress Mess Hall**

**12:00 PM**

"So, thanks to you we're on punishment duty." Far summed up Turd's words in a single sentence.

"That's not the important part! I know that was his voice in there." The other two stared at him sadly, disbelieving. "Dammit, what about this is so hard to believe?" Turd slammed his fist down on the table.

"Don't obsess over it. Training starts again tomorrow, you know, and I hear we're going to be deployed in a week." Far took a bite of her baked potato. "Now this is the stuff."

"Heh. Well, you were right about the desperation, Sticks." Turd sighed and looked down at his still-untouched plate. "You'll see. Soon, you'll see."

The two of them looked over at Sticks, who was shoving his food down his throat at the speed of a hungry dog. Turd chuckled a little. "C'mon, Sticks. Sarge isn't here right now."

Sticks didn't respond. Turd shook his head. "It really does feel too quiet, with Pits gone." He didn't mention the other absence.

* * *

**Golden Fortress Improvised Training Gym**

**Four days later**

**December 12, 4:00 PM**

Physical training had ended two days ago. Now, David was receiving a crash course on command procedure. A minature command room had been constructed in the center of the gym, complete with a mock-up of a Break Amplifier in the center. David wondered where this OF Andy was; he'd seen the commander's repair work throughout the base, but he hadn't seen the kid since the battle.

"Yesterday's training was all you needed to know about logistics for now. Mostly, your support officers will handle those details. However, between battles you'll need to study up on it. God knows how many officers I've seen screw themselves over by running low on supplies." Captain Steele looked neutral, as usual. David sat in one of the chairs, staring out into space.

"Here's the rundown. Battlefield images as displayed on your tactical console are compiled from satellite pictures and unit video feeds. Your support officers will compile the tactical display. You give orders through the console, and then the support officers will pass them on to the units. Of course, you can give a direct order if you wish."

"Yeah, yeah. We practiced all that yesterday."

Steele frowned; for the last few days, the kid had been far more motivated. She had checked the records at the data room and noted that he had researched his brother's death, but figured that now wasn't a good time to give him any lectures about revenge. "Very well then. If you're really on top of this, then tell me about Dark Spots."

"Simple. They're electromagnetic storms that interfere with our spy satellites, restricting battlefield awareness. These storms only started happening after the Break Nova during the Great World War."

"At least you were listening." Steele leaned back. "The Command Network is something completely different. As the advisor, your role is to pay attention to the Comnet and the tactical overview at once to make sure that the OF or CO you're working with doesn't miss something important. The Comnet, while a powerful tool, can make one shortsighted."

And then, she turned and beckoned towards the door. "Alright. Come with me, Special Advisor. We're off to the Command Room so you can try this for real."

"Wha-?" Before David could object, Steele dragged him out of the gym.

"Our Command Room at the Golden Fortress isn't anything like the HQ Towers you'll grow accustomed to. For once thing, we don't have a Break Amplifier. Either way, I'd like to walk you through a simple battle to get you used to this."

Soon, David found himself sitting at a console with a strange map in front of him. Steele stood behind David, eyes boring a hole in the back of his head. "Also, I want to remind you that this overview is merely an abstraction of actual battlefield events. For instance..." Steele pushed a button, bringing up a blurry photograph that appeared to be the same battlefield from overhead. She clicked on part of the picture, and the console zoomed in. "Because sometimes your support officers make mistakes. If something seems off to you – use your intuition – then you can double-check their work."

David looked back at the tactical overview. The map showed a large plain, surrounded by mountains. Two Orange Star infantry markers were displayed in the valley, and two Blue Moon markers were on the mountains to the east. Steele smiled a little. "Here's an easy one. Our troops were scouting in this area during a Dark Spot. When it cleared, it turned out there were some Blue Moon scouts there too, who started advancing towards our troops. I reckon our boys out there have the advantage, though; our scouts appear much better-rested, while Blue Moon's scout teams are further apart. In short, I reckon we can flank them."

"I..." David looked back at her. "You mean, these are actual..."

"Yes. Don't believe me? Look for yourself." Steele pressed another button, and a shaky camera view of an open plain appeared on the screen. It continued moving, showing several Orange Star soldiers running through the grass. "Shall I turn on the sound?"

"No... that's fine." David mentally hit himself; why was he getting all nervous now?

"Alright; you tell me what's the best thing to do here." Steele looked at him expectantly.

"Uh..." David stared at the screen. "Our scouts are close to that one enemy group there. If we flank them with both squads at once..."

"Perfect. Give the orders."

David put his hand on the trackball at the console, selected one of the units, then set its destination on the screen. He repeated the action with the other. "Now what?"

"Now, we wait. Our units on the ground have their own abstractions of the tactical overview, so they're perfectly aware of the situation they're in. I don't expect contact for another 10, maybe 15 minutes, so take that time to familiarize yourself with the command console. During a real battle, you won't have time to take this kind of break. Of course, some battles will be nothing but a break. Either way, you can't let down your guard."

David fiddled with the screen for 10 more minutes; then, he was interrupted by a beep from the console. He clicked back to the tactical overview, and saw that the two Orange Star infantry units were right next to the Blue Moon infantry. Red squares surrounded the images on the screen.

"I... then, how's the battle..."

"That's the nasty thing about being in command. You can't affect the way each engagement goes... of course, an OF or CO can influence in over the Comnet, but they can't afford to devote too much brainpower to managing a single firefight. And without the Comnet..." Steele looked down at him. "Well, some advice from a veteran: don't be tempted to watch the helmet cams right now."

A few minutes later, the blue infantry disappeared from the screen. "Huh..." David looked down, seeing a status marker on one of the orange infantry. As he clicked the picture of the soldier, a report appeared on the screen: one soldier had taken a shot to the leg, and one had experienced equipment failure. Steele smiled a little. "The support officers also take into account a unit's organization, equipment repair level, and health to create an estimate for the unit's current combat potential."

"Um." David gulped. "Don't say it. I know. I'll have to get... to get used to seeing casualties."

"Even I wouldn't be callous enough to say it like _that_."

"If a unit disappears, then..."

"Then they were killed, captured, or most likely are withdrawing from combat. You'd have to go into the report screen for an estimate of how many were killed or wounded in the process, but it'll be another few minutes before we know for sure. In more chaotic battles, we might never know."

A few minutes later, the other blue infantry marker was gone from the screen. Steele clapped her hands together. "And that's the end of this skirmish. Feel okay?"

"Yeah... it's easier than I expected." David leaned back.

"Of course, that's just the beginning. We haven't covered terrain or mixed-unit tactics, for instance. But a lot of it should be self-explanatory, since you're a Projector."

"Stop reminding me."

"Well, that's the end of today's training. You can go if you want, or you can stay and familiarize yourself with the console a little more."

"The second one sounds good." _Maybe I can find out just what's going on with this Andy._

As Captain Steele walked to the other end of the room, apparently taking a phone call, David accessed the base's records.

Huh. It seemed that they were building up quite an army. David hadn't known about the factory that had sprung up overnight, for instance; it almost scared him. This Andy... David had heard tales about Breakcoms' combat abilities, but never anything about construction like this. It made him wonder: just how many Breakcoms actually have a constructive type of ability?

Curious, David made sure Steele wasn't looking – he'd much prefer she not comment on this – then accessed Orange Star's Breakcom database.

"Huh. You're calling me pretty early today, CO-General. I'll take that as good news." Steele stared into the screen.

"We've officially hit a stalemate in this battle. Blue Moon can't advance, but we have to open up a new front in order to draw their troops away from the capital. We're running out of supplies." Nell forced a smile, dried makeup cracking on her face.

"So that means we're deploying tomorrow?" Steele said.

"I'd like to give you more time with Special Advisor Carroll, but I'm worried that Sami will do something reckless..." Nell winced before continuing- "and Max already has, and perhaps endangered the entire war effort in the process. A T-Copter will be by to pick up you and Sergeant Levins tomorrow at 1700 hours. I will take over the Advisor's tutoring."

"But if you're doing that..."

"I'm switching the day shift with OF-Major... no, OF-Colonel Jackal. I'll be commanding night operations from now on." Nell's face indicated that would be a major relief for her.

"You're really invested in Carroll, ma'am."

"Perhaps. Maybe I see potential in him, beyond the end of this war."

"To replace you, perhaps?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves." Nell's smile this time was far more natural.

"True. We have this war to worry about first, after all."

"I understand you've worked with CO-Major Sami before?"

"Once." Steele winced. "I think we... worked well together, but at the time, pride got in the way."

Nell giggled. "I'll make sure she listens to you, but the rest is your job."

"Yes, ma'am. Anything else?"

"The assault from this area will have to start sooner than expected, so... the troops here will be trickling into the battle. The enemy will outnumber them and have better equipment. As the current commander of the base, I thought you should know the danger your men will be in."

"And all of it is under the command of a novice CO and a newbie advisor."

"That's the situation."

Steele didn't let her emotions show on her face, but her tone told it all. "Perfect. Anything else?"

"That's all. Dismissed."

Nell's face disappeared from the screen. Captain Flora Steele sighed; she really, really hoped the kid was up to the task. She worried about what he might do without her supervision. Then again, he'd have an OF to look after him... right?

* * *

**Orange Star Cosmo Territory, Eugenia Province**

**The previous day**

**December 11, 5:30 PM**

"So. You're the monster who's been doing this, huh?" A mountain of muscle stood at the edge of a thick forest, barren deciduous trees close together like a tall, leafless maze of wood, the setting sun at his back. Around him stood several soldiers, staring in horror at thin spike-like objects upon which were perched various body parts, bloody civilian clothing strewn across the ground. "Answer me!"

"Heh heh..." The silver silhouette that stood opposite him bared his fangs. "Do you enjoy my work? I don't normally consider myself an artist, but I think-"

A fist cut through the air before he could finish. The dark man moved quickly, slipping out of the way as his opponent's knuckle met thin air. "-these served their purpose quite well. After all, it led you here, did it not?"

"Your name. I like to know it before I kill someone." The giant CO cracked his knuckles.

"What a coincidence. I share that sentiment, CO-Colonel Max of Orange Star." The man laughed, a hoarse, dry noise that made Max's escort soldiers grimace. "I am Vladi. I can see by your look you've heard of me."

"Yeah." Max waved his hand, signaling his soldiers to get away. "Nell told me you were a disgusting son of a bitch. What, did you kill these civilians for target practice or something?"

"As I said, it was all just to draw you out. Killing the scouts you sent to these woods was such a bore. Killing even weaker prey, much more so."

"Alright." Max pounded his fists together. "One last thing. What words do ya want on your tombstone?"

Vladi laughed once, a raw, guttural sound. As he did so, he spread his arms and opened his hands. Max looked around, then heard screams from his soldiers as they fell over, trembling with pain. Vladi shook his head mockingly, then deftly whirled around and dashed into the woods.

"Son of a bitch!" The large man went in after him.

"CO-Colonel Max! Wait!" yelled one of his soldiers, but to no avail.

Max ran into the forest, his teeth firmly clamped together. "Get back and fight me!" he screamed.

"Gladly."

Max heard something cut through the air, and grabbed a small fallen log to block it. A moment later, a metal stake was stuck through the wood, stopped several inches away from Max's chest.

"Hah." Max threw the log at full speed towards the source of the stake. A blur moving through the trees told him he had missed.

Around him, Vladi's voice echoed. "You really are an idiot, aren't you? Did you think this environment was a good place to fight me?"

"Yeah." With that, Max pulled in energy from around him, then kicked the nearest tree, pulling it out of the ground, even as deep as the roots. He grabbed the tree and spun it; his weapon didn't get far until it hit a rooted tree. After a moment of impact, the upright tree was pushed over on its side, its roots snapping or pulling out of the ground. This same process repeated itself for all the trees around Max, leaving behind a circular pile of logs and branches, the sounds of falling giants permeating the air.

As wood hit mud and splashed it into the air, Vladi jumped down from the top of the canopy, landing behind Max and firing his weapon again. Max kicked his foot backwards, his foot intercepting the bottom of the stake as it flew towards him and sending it up and over his head.

"So showy..." Vladi laughed again, then spoke as he hopped slowly backwards, voice still audible over the din. "Learn some science, Max, or you'll keep wasting your strength like that."

Max turned around and dashed at Vladi, who leaped into the air and landed on the outside of the circle of fallen wood. "Anyhow, I'm done playing," the silver-hair man finished. "I will enjoy killing you, CO Max."

"In your dreams!" Max threw a punch at Vladi, sending a pocket of air at high-speed at his enemy. Vladi dashed away, disappearing among the trees. As Max prepared to give chase, Vladi opened his mouth and released a terrible screech. Max, not expecting this, reached his hands up and covered his ears instinctively. A moment later, a stake went crashing into the large man's lower back, jerking him forward but not knocking him over.

"Heh... really." The large man grimaced, hatred for his adversary ever more apparent on his face. He groaned, then yanked the stake out of his back, releasing a stream of blood. A patch of Break Energy was all it took to stop the bleeding.

Another screech flowed through the air, disorienting Max again, but this time, he expected it and was able to sidestep the stake that came at his body. As the vibrations faded, he propelled himself forward, smashing through a tree in the direction the stake had come from. But then, it turned out the man wasn't there anymore, and a stake narrowly missed Max's left side.

_Time to crank it up a notch. _Max grinned, then pulled in an immense amount of Break Energy. His enemy wouldn't see this coming. As another screech came out through the air, Max yelled:

"MAX BLAST!"

A surge of destructive energy blew out in a wave around him at high speed, flattening trees and kicking up the mud that covered the ground until it looked as though a small fuel-air bomb had hit the area. The yell that came from the direction of the sunset told him that his enemy had been hit, and he quickly rushed to take advantage of this surprise.

And there in front of him, Vladi was picking himself up, his dark coat tattered. However, the glint of excitement in his dark eyes had not been replaced by fear. Far from it. Still, Max pushed off the ground with Break Energy, dashing forward in preparation to attack-

-and the man whirled around and ran away again. As Max gave chase, he ignored the spreading pain in his back. For the next quarter of a minute, they were again heading towards the edge of the forest. Max's strides were larger, and he could Breakdash faster, so he was quickly catching up, but when Vladi reached some trees that were still standing, he leaped once onto the side of a tree, and then up again into the branches.

_I hope he wants some more Max Force, 'cause that's what he's gonna get. _Max's punch sent a wave of energy cutting through the trees, knocking a whole line of them over. His adversary leaped again, moving sideways onto the top of another tree. Max sent another force wave into the wooded maze, knocking trees over and laying bare the edge of the forest, where Vladi ran back out onto the plains. This wasn't where they had entered – Max's soldiers weren't there waiting for him – but Max felt he could maneuver against this madman far easier out here. Besides, his back was really starting to hurt.

Then, Vladi jumped up, the sun at his back – Max lost sight of him as he came down and the sun blasted him in the eyes. As he dodged to the right, expecting a stake to come at him, he hit the ground but didn't hear the sound of any stakes. Instead, he heard a click, and then his legs came out from under him and he felt his B-field flicker, peppered with some kind of metal. As he tried to get up, he saw the remnants of a tripwire, with an attached explosive. And then there was Vladi, standing over him with his hand outstretched-

Max felt his muscles tear as a nasty vibration ripped through him. His entire body cried out in a series of sharp pains, but he still kept it together enough to throw a hard right punch at Vladi's, whose expression barely had enough time to turn to terror before-

His fist connected with that terrified face, and the gaunt man went spiraling into the air, flying a little ways upwards and then landing facedown a few feet away. Max tried to follow up the attack, but he stepped on a small metal object-

-that exploded with a bang, along with several other small mines around him. Several pieces of superheated metal finally broke through his B-field and became embedded in his body. The pain was too much, and as his battle frenzy disappeared, he felt his entire back aflame, the worst pain from the stake wound he had received earlier. Max realized then that the stake had been poisoned.

Unable to move, his only consolation came from the fact that he did not see his adversary stand either. At least, that's what he thought for a few seconds. The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was the nightmarish sight of Vladi's empty, bloodshot eyes staring greedily down into him, the man raising his weapon-

And then the man disappeared, and the world collapsed into a kaleidoscope. Max thought he heard the sounds of a helicopter, then Vladi's voice, then... Sami's...?

And then his world exploded a second time, and his brain gave up trying to process it all.


	10. Field Training II: Maneuvers

Urgh... I've just gotten done with a two-week project that was as bad as my entire term project last term combined. College isn't tough overall; it's just a few nasty classes that really get to you.

it's been over a year since I first started uploading this fic. Looking back on it, if I could change one thing, I'd pick much better nicknames for David's squadmates. Oh well; I have time to rectify that mistake now, I guess.

There I went, leaving this story 3 months without an update! Well, I'd better pick up the pace. We're almost at the main story now, and it's time for one of my favorite COs from the first game to make his appearance at last!

* * *

**Field Training II: Maneuevers**

**Orange Star Cosmo Territory, Eugenia Province**

**December 11, 5:39 PM**

"CO-Major Sami." The silver-haired assassin turned away from the muscle mountain on the floor, a drop of blood falling from his broken nose. "Apologies. If I'd known he would be that easy, I wouldn't have used the poison."

Sami leapt down from the helicopter, machine gun at her side, staring at Vladi the whole time. "You bastard."

"I'd love to stay and chat, but..." Vladi opened his arms wide. "Duty calls, and my men have a province to capture."

As Vladi turned to the side, he suddenly lowered his right arm and shot another stake into the large man's chest. Sami screamed, letting a hail of bullets fly from the weapon towards Vladi. The man dashed through the air, and was now on Max's other side, his gun lowered towards the fallen CO's head-

And suddenly, Sami's machine gun was in midair, falling to the ground, and Sami herself was there beside him. Before Vladi could move, his enhanced hearing picked up a sound much like a pick being stabbed into ice. A moment later, his right arm exploded with pain, and he dropped his Impaler, staggering backwards and holding the arm with his left hand.

The man gritted his teeth, emitting a harsh growl; he'd trained himself not to scream in these situations. A moment passed as he struggled to regain balance, like a heartbeat. _What I've heard about her abilities is true. But to this level...?_

After all, the girl was still moving towards him, her fist moving at an impossible speed towards his face, the world slowing down but his body not speeding up. As Vladi twisted his body to the side, aiming to avoid the strike, he was suddenly hit in the face by something metal and went tumbling to the ground.

_She kicked my gun up into my face...! _

And she was still moving, aiming to get above him. Vladi knew her CO ability: the manipulation of time. If she got on top of him, she could snap his neck long before he could release a shatterer vibration. He was breathing hard and his voice wouldn't come out; for the first time in a while, the OF-Captain actually felt afraid.

But there had to be a limit to her ability; Vladi wouldn't have survived so long if he didn't know that. As she came down on him, he kicked upwards, striking her in the stomach with a satisfying gasp and launching her over him. _Perfect. So she can't use her power constantly, or she'd have been able to avoid that._

The man rolled backwards, then flipped to his feet, expecting a counterattack. It came in the form of several Break-charged, time-accelerated bullets, one striking Vladi in the side as he turned to face Sami. A cascade of pain overtook his mind as the bullet pierced straight through his body and out the other side. Worse yet, he hadn't heard the bullets being fired; they were traveling much faster than sound. It was clear that he couldn't win right now.

_I have to get away._ Vladi Breakdashed back into the forest, picking up Impaler as he ran. He didn't hear the sound of any pursuit, but that didn't change things. For all he knew, she had a satellite shadowing him and could stop time to catch up whenever she wanted.

Vladi felt bad about leaving behind his kill; even without Emeraldine, there was still a chance the enemy CO might survive those injuries. No matter, though; the lug wouldn't be any harder next time around. He was sure of it. Besides, mission accomplished: one of Orange Star's COs is crippled. _That'll teach them to try and force us away from the capital. _

As his fear subsided, the man grinned, sharp teeth not out of place in a forest of carnivores. He laughed hoarsely. "Even if I don't get that kill... at least I found another interesting target today. Sami, is it? Heh..."

* * *

Seconds after Vladi ran, Sami fell to the ground, panting heavily. Despite all her stamina training, using her powers was exhausting. But she had no time to think about that. She pulled out a pocket communicator:

"Support copter... one. This is Sami. Zone clear. Evac needed now."

"Roger, ma'am. We'll be done and back in the air in one."

One minute later, she was resting in the back of the helicopter. She was shaking with fatigue, and she wished she could be with the medics, checking on Max's condition. Vladi's poison, an expensive Blue Moon concoction called Transyl, blocked the effects of Emeraldine, meaning an antidote had to be administered before Max could be properly treated. Sami's rescue team had brought one along, but the process took three hours. Ridiculous... he could be dead by then.

Nell had sent Sami as soon as she'd heard about the gruesome displays Vladi had put up; she knew that Max would do something stupid, but she'd hoped Sami would arrive before Max would act. As it turned out, she may not have reached him in time.

When Sami delivered her report to Nell, the woman just sighed. "Max... you fool. I should have sent you an advisor sooner."

"Ma'am... this isn't a good situation. Do you want me to take control of this front?"

"Yes. The guerilla attacks can wait, since we'll be opening up a new front in the Alara Region shortly. I'm afraid it'll be a little longer before you meet the new CO."

"I see." Sami looked down. "Nell... that Vladi. I... I'm surprised I made it out against him. I had to stop time to even get close, and he was about to..."

"You did well, Sami. Surviving against an enemy like that... of course, I don't want you to do it again without backup." Nell glanced at her with warning.

For once, the girl didn't argue. "Sure thing, ma'am. I feel like I got lucky this time."

_I just hope Max gets lucky, too. _

* * *

**Golden Fortress Command Center**

**Back in the present**

**December 12, 4:40 PM**

According to Orange Star's database, there actually had been other Breakcoms with constructive powers, such as CO-Colonel Jess from Green Earth. Something else caught David's eye; all of Green Earth's COs had been hired since the Triple Rebellion. Did none of their senior COs support the rebellion or something?

Then, he heard footsteps coming. David logged out of the network as Sergeant Levins entered the room, looking like he'd just woken up with a hangover. "Advisor! Where the hell did Steele go?"

David looked around. "You mean, she left?"

The Sergeant let out a noise like a dying donkey. "Whatever. Go... er, whatever." He stormed out of the room, raising a curiosity in David's mind. He waited for a couple seconds, then quickly slipped out of the room, following Levins.

* * *

Captain Steele sat in her office, her mind as far away from the situation as she could take it. As the office's door opened, she listened to the footsteps for a moment to determine who it was, then went back to reading her book.

"Heh. What would the troops say if they saw their iceheart Captain Steele reading a fantasy novel?" The Sergeant tromped in, a smile on his face but a stressed look in his eye.

"All of us need a break now and then. I assume you received my orders?" Steele leaned back in her chair.

"Yeah. Thanks for giving me plenty of time to run the recruits' examination." Levins rolled his eyes.

"Nell's decision, not mine. Besides, you have all night and tomorrow afternoon. Don't you like to surprise your victims anyways?"

The Sergeant scoffed. "Not if it's a surprise for me too. Anyhow, I'm surprised you've snuck in enough time for that, considering..." He bit his lip and let the last word hang in the air.

"It's called time management, Frank. Not that you'd be familiar with the idea."

"Heh." Frank Levins sat down. "Time for a chat before your next 'time-managed' walkthrough of the base?"

"Sure. Unless it's about the kid."

"Aw, I'm not that petty." Frank put his feet on the desk. "Just wondering when you think we'll meet up again."

"Who knows. So try to stay alive 'til then. Anything else?"

Frank stared over at her, his eyes narrowed. "Not my choice of book."

Steele sighed. "I'm not avoiding you, Frank. I just need some time off."

"Sure you do. So much time off that even though we'll be separated for maybe half a year again, you somehow don't have time to make some plans with me."

"There would be no point."

"And that's what I don't get, Flora. Why the hell are you acting like I'm gonna die here? Don't jinx it for me, you know?"

"I know you're worried about me too, but this is just another day in both our lives, and tomorrow won't be any different. Stop thinking so hard about it."

Frank glared. "You don't normally read these days. And you haven't touched that coffee on your desk yet."

Steele looked back up from her book, a blank look in her eye. "Not thirsty."

Frank's face tightened. He opened his mouth as though to say something, then closed it again. "Whatever. I'll see you at the recruits' grad ceremony."

Sergeant Levins promptly turned his back on her and walked away, not even bothering to close the door behind him. Steele stared at the door as it slowly moved towards the frame, her eyes glued to the wooden slab for almost a minute. Then, she turned back to her book, her nerves no longer easy to ignore.

* * *

_They're leaving tomorrow? What? _David's mind was whirring; he was glad that Levins hadn't caught him outside the door, or else he was sure he'd be skinned alive. If she was leaving, then who was going to be training him? And what the hell were those two doing talking in such a manner?

David decided to go to the Officers' Lounge. He could bet that Levins wouldn't be there at such a time, and he was curious about why they were leaving so soon. There were some things that wouldn't be found in the database.

At the lounge, there was plenty of talk; rumors flying around among the support officers, rumors that caught David's ear when he entered the room.

"-that CO-Colonel Max is dead?"

"No, that's not possible. Besides, your leak's never been accurate."

"I'm not shitting ya, Jerry! They saw the body and everything! Besides, with what I've heard about that assassin Vladi-"

"Max wouldn't die like that."

"You never know. After all, they did say Sami was redeployed to Eugenia. If that's true-"

Vladi. At David's home province.

"What's that about Eugenia?" David asked.

The two officers jumped a little, took a look at his rank badge, and jumped a second time, snapping to attention. "Sir!"

David hissed, exasperated. "At ease, officers. I'm just here to catch up on things."

"You're here with Andy, right? Is it true that you're moving out tomorrow?"

"First I've heard of that," David looked at the man's badge, "Lieutenant Volke."

"Oh, okay. Well, that Vladi bastard was leading the attack on Eugenia, right? So CO-Major Sami's been sent over there. That must mean something's happened to CO-Colonel Max."

A chill ran up David's spine. "How much of Eugenia do we have?"

"Well, Max retook most of the western area." Volke shuffled his feet a little. "If he's out of business, though... Sami's with special forces, not the main army. Between you and me, the assault will lose momentum with her in command."

"Aw, you've never liked Sami," the other officer cut in. "She's just as capable as that gorilla, if not four times better. Sure, she's not the best with armor, but..."

"Armor's what we'll need to take back the province," Volke argued. "After all..."

That was all David needed to hear; they didn't know here either. He headed down towards Steele's office at full speed.

"Yes, you are heading out tomorrow. Why do you ask?" Steele sat in her chair, reading a large book that David didn't care to inspect.

"Before you ask," Steele cut him off, "I only heard about it today. I was planning to tell you this evening, when all the preparations have been made."

"Is it because... are you off to advise CO-Major Sami?" David asked. He saw in the next moment that the question had been a mistake; a look appeared in Steele's eyes letting him know she had connected the dots.

"As a matter of fact, yes." Steele leaned forwards and looked into his eyes. "And you know this because you've been keeping track of the man who killed your brother."

"I..." David started.

"I monitored your usage of the database, Advisor. Of course, at the time I didn't know what you planned to do, but I at least hoped you wouldn't get any foolish ideas. Besides, it seemed like a good motivation. However, if you plan to go after that man..."

"Not... not if it interferes with my duty," David responded.

"Believe me, it will. I've been acquainted with revenge before." David saw her body relax a little. "But on top of that, do you really think you can kill him, even with a CO's help? The man is elusive, and he plays dirty. For the sake of Orange Star, I'd prefer you not do anything stupid."

David almost retorted, but that look of warning was still in her eye; he could easily picture her snapping him in half. "Yes, ma'am. I'll be careful."

Steele sighed. "Soldiers these days..." She was about to continue, when her datapad made a beeping noise.

"Hm. Actually, this was good timing, Advisor. It looks like I'll be able to squeeze in one more lesson before I leave."

"What?" David looked confused.

"Satellites have picked up some enemy units moving towards the base. I don't know what they're up to, but now's a good time to teach you some terrain tactics."

* * *

**Unknown Location**

**Unknown Time**

A soldier walked forward through the foggy corridor, a dark concrete bunker with a low ceiling, iron doors on both sides for as far as the eye could see. He could hear voices coming from beyond the doors, snippets of speech coming from beyond...

"...reconstruction funds. The military doesn't need..."

"...don't know what he was thinking-"

"...all the same to you, isn't it?"

The man's purple flight jacket ruffled as a gust of wind came down the hall. He scowled, glaring at the doors. This had been a nightmare to him once, but now, it was just a hassle, a tiring rite of passage he had to take once in a while.

A face appeared in the fog in front of him; deathly pale skin, sunken eyes, dark sneer. "Come on, who's next? Tell us! Tell us, what's your next hunch?"

"Go back to hell." The soldier walked right through the face, dissolving it into mist. Another face appeared, this one with black hair and dark eyes, but before it could fully form, the soldier flipped out his sidearm and shot a hole in it, then stepped through.

The corridor stretched for what seemed like forever. The soldier tried one of the doors, and to his surprise, it opened. A flash of light blinded the man, sending him falling over backwards, cursing. As he stood up, he looked into the doorway-

"CO-Commander Eagle. We've reached the edge of Orange Star territory and are ready to begin deployment of search drones."

Eagle woke abruptly, like he always did from these dreams. "Lieutenant. Don't tell stories about it, just do it."

"Sir." The man walked away. Eagle scowled at his back as he left; then leaned back and sighed. At least he was off that damn cruiser.

The Green Earth forces had docked at a small island off Orange Star's coast. The island had been scouted long ago by Green Earth forces; it held a cave useful for hiding their smaller ships, and the jungle allowed them to hide a sizable base complex underground, out of satellite view. Orange Star might spot the cruisers, or they might detect his energy signature, but he'd deal with that when it happened. The important thing was that there was enough room for a port on the island, so the ships and drones could refuel.

As he came back to consciousness, Eagle put his mind back on the task ahead of him: to locate and kill a particular CO. He knew his target's Break signature, and his long-range scout drones would be able send him back the wavelengths so he could find the bastard. _Of course, that's only half the battle. I still have to get him, but I can't move until the rest of the battalion arrives. _

Eagle was only accompanied by a few cruisers and helicopters, as well as two companies of commandos. His main force was currently sneaking around the continent to meet up at this island for the attack, and that would take a couple weeks. Then, he'd have to wait for the target to move near the coast so that he could strike.

It was going to be a waiting game, and not a fun one either. Eagle walked out of the small bunker office; if he had to sit around, then it might as well be in the cockpit of a battle copter.

* * *

**Golden Fortress Training Field**

**December 13, 12:00 PM**

Sergeant Levins stared out at the field as the recruits lined up in formation. Their graduation was at hand... well, for most of them, anyways. Some would say that Orange Star needed every soldier they could get, but Levins knew that sending a bad soldier into the field was worse than being down a man. He stared at the other drill sergeants with contempt; none of those pansies had enough balls to fail someone. As a result, Levins' Platoon was a little smaller than the others.

_But I'll be damned if they don't look the proudest of 'em. _

Steele's speech was short and forced; of course, the other people there obviously didn't notice. Levins rolled his eyes. The Captain could do a sugar-charged song and dance routine in front of the entire goddamn base and they would still see a robot when they looked at her.

The other sergeants said just a few words each, as usual, the type of things that they always said. When it came time for Levins' speech, he walked over to the podium and nodded at the glaring recruits... no, privates now.

"Get out there and do us proud."

With those words, he stepped off the stage. Let them take from that what they would. _I'd rather keep training these kids for the rest of my life, but it seems like that the all-knowing mother country has some other big-ass plan for me. _

Levins didn't even wait to see the end of the ceremony. According to his datapad, the helicopter was here anyways, and he didn't want to see what kind of pansy would be replacing him, nor did he want to hear a single word from the cretin's mouth.

When Levins arrived at the helicopter, he saw that Steele had already arrived. Neither Max nor Sami was waiting inside, only a couple officers he didn't know or care to know.

The first stepped out of the helicopter and held out a hand. "I am Captain Marshall. I'm here to take command of the base."

"Hm." Steele looked the man up and down. "Not my first pick, but you'll do. Don't break anything while I'm gone."

"Hah." The man walked past, a disdainful look in his eye.

"Always had a way with men, huh?" Levins teased, a little maliciously. Steele didn't respond, nor did she say a word as the helicopter took off and left behind the place they had come to know as home.

* * *

**Golden Fortress Command Room**

**December 13, 1:45 PM**

David Carroll waited restlessly, alternatively checking the news and playing Minesweeper at his terminal. This time, he felt a little intimidated; Captain Steele was gone, not only from the room, but from the base in general, and she wasn't coming back. He was on his own. Technically, he was in charge, but... looking at the support officers around the room, it was obvious there wasn't a great deal of confidence in his abilities.

Then, a call came through on his terminal. All heads turned to the large screen at the front of the room as the face of CO-General Nell appeared on it, looking significantly more rested than the last time David had seen her.

"Special Advisor Carroll. Captain Steele has informed me she's already gone over the basics of terrain tactics with you. I assume you're prepared for command?"

"Y-yes." David found himself stuttering a little.

"Don't be nervous. I'll be talking you through part of the mission, but I won't be babysitting you. You understand your orders, right?"

That, David could answer. "The OF... I mean, Lieutenant Andy has taken back one of the HQ towers in Alara – the Central Plains base. His forces are moving north and south, and I'm to defend the headquarters in the meantime. Right?"

"Ah, so you haven't been in contact with Andy. I was hoping that the two of you would have a chance to talk."

"I... we..." David's mouth grew dry.

"I understand that he brings back... memories, but I'd really like you to become his partner in the near future. If you are not able to do that-"

"No, no. I can." _If I refuse, you'll just find some way to make me do it._

"Excellent. Well, there's been a change in the mission description."

"...great. Explain."

Nell leaned back in her chair. "Blue Moon has assigned an OF to the defense of the Alara Region: Petrine. You probably won't have to deal with her directly, as Andy is keeping her forces busy; however, she has a subcommander in an HQ just east of here, at the Spire Hills. This officer has deployed his troops in a rather... awkward way, and I think we have an opportunity here to take control of the Spire Hills HQ as well."

"Uh... sure. So..." David fumbled around with the console a little, then brought up the screen. His jaw dropped slightly as he took in the overview. The Advisor flipped through several satellite feeds, wondering if this could possibly be accurate. "Uh..." He looked around the room, eyes landing on the support officer with the highest rank. "Lieutenant Browning. Can you recheck the overview's accuracy?"

"Yes, sir." The man started working at the terminal. David looked back at the terminal: Orange Star had two platoons of infantry available, one anti-armor infantry group, and a close-quarters special forces squad. However... "Uh, ma'am? We're moving through some lightly populated urban areas."

"If any of the industrial zones here are under Blue Moon control, you should focus some time towards clearing them out."

"Under Blue Moon control?"

"Yes. Industrial districts are highlighted on the overview. You can establish supply camps inside and commandeer the resources there, much as Blue Moon has done with – well, you can see the blue cities on the overview. They take time to build, but once the camps are in place, we can ship the resources back to HQ and send reinforcements or supplies over by convoy. Of course, it'll take time to secure enemy supply camps as well, but once that's done you can just take over where they left off; no need to build a new one. Thus, it's usually better to attack enemy-held cities instead of neutral ones, in order to deprive the enemy of funds." Nell paused. "Of course, it would be useless to take resources from these cities because we don't have any bases nearby."

"So it's a funding source and a safe point for resupply..." David paused. "What about the civilians?"

"There are designated safe zones for civilians to hide in, and it's against the Houston conventions to battle within residential areas."

"Sure. Let's go with that." The last few days had left David rather bitter.

"Breaches of the convention are less common than you might think, Advisor. Nobody wants a repeat of the Great World War."

David was about to question her, but the Lieutenant spoke up before he could. "No anomalies, sir. The tactical overview is accurate."

That sure didn't sound good. "Well, ma'am. Mind telling me what I'm supposed to do about an entire company of tanks?"

Nell only smiled. "Well, our goal here is to dislodge them from the area, right? We don't have to rout them in order to do that; no, we just need to cut off their command and control. To do that, we storm their HQ."

David looked at the overview again. "Huh. Those tanks can't reach the HQ."

"I doubt Blue Moon's subcommander expected an attack from this direction, and certainly not with infantry."

"So, we take advantage of his mistake. I can get behind that plan." David felt himself smile for the first time that day. It scared him a little.

* * *

**Golden Fortress Recruit Barracks 4**

**December 13, 2:30 PM**

"You're being transferred too?" Turd sat back. "Where?"

Far nodded. "Being moved west."

The largest man present continued his slow visual patrol of the others in the room, his eyes coming to rest on the other male there. "And... and you too, Sticks."

Sticks nodded, with a slight tremble. "Yeah... I've been ordered to Sami's task force."

"And that means..." Turd trailed off, looking down at his order.

Pvt. Gordon Tebowski

Report no later than: 13 Dec 887, 1700 hours CST

Location: "Golden Fortress" Motor Pool Five

Assignment: Special Task Force – "Andy"

"The hell, man. They can't do this to us. They can't break up the squad."

"We weren't supposed to have seen combat yet. They told us at the start these arrangements were temporary." Far continued packing her belongings.

"How can you just take all this?" Turd yelled. "They've been treating us like-"

"Tools? You knew that when you signed up, didn't you?" Far didn't even turn around. "Now I can't help but ask: why are you here?"

"I joined the army to fight Green Earth, not for this shit!" Turd threw his bag back onto his bunk. "Who the hell knew Blue Moon was going to pull this kind of... god damn it all."

"Hah." Far didn't say anything further. Turd glared at her.

"Green Earth?" Sticks looked at him.

"Don't get me wrong; I don't have any hate for 'em. But..." Turd's eyes glazed a little. "It's a fight I have to finish. You can't tell me you have any better of a reason, ice girl?"

"It's a job."

"Fine, I get it. You really are just a robot. A true coward." Turd stormed out the door, then turned around. "Never got to say goodbye to Pits, even. And Sticks... watch yourself out there, buddy."

"You too." Sticks still looked sick as Turd's back disappeared down the hallway.

Far hesitated, then spoke after a moment, just before the man was out of earshot:

"Turd. Kick some ass out there."

There was no response, but the pace of the footsteps moving down the hall slowed noticeably.

* * *

**Blue Moon Forward HQ, South of Fort Halberd**

**Officers' Lounge**

**December 13, 7:47 PM**

OF-Colonel Sasha had not yet received a signal from Olaf to take over for the night. Sasha felt that her commander was becoming less and less rational as of late, taking longer days and making larger mistakes. She couldn't blame him – after all, Orange Star was winning the war of attrition – but every time she suggested he rest, it only seemed to encourage him to push himself.

The door made a *ding* noise and opened, and Lieutenant – no, now Captain Baich – stepped into the lounge. Sasha turned and smiled a little. "How was the operation?"

"Well, I still miss my old hand, but this one ain't so bad." Baich flexed his new metallic fingers a little. "Can't imagine myself losing at thumb-wrestling anytime soon."

Sasha's datapad began to beep, and she picked it up, seeing that Olaf was finally calling. "CO-General Olaf. Your orders?"

"Sasha. I'm staying in command tonight. If that blasted Nell wants an endurance match, she's got one."

Sasha frowned; seemed that the bad feeling she'd had throughout the day was starting to bear fruit. "CO-General... shouldn't you rest?"

Olaf's tired eyes glared down, defiant. "The longer this stalemate persists, the more time Orange Star has. Therefore, we have to change tactics – keep them on their toes. You will take command all day tomorrow."

"CO-General..." Sasha started to speak, but the transceiver abruptly deactivated.

"Colonel..." Baich shrugged. "Your take?"

"Call me Sasha. ...and he's making a mistake. However, he does have a point."

"Hm. What do we do from here, ma'am?"

"I'll get some sleep in preparation for tomorrow. You are to meet with the subcommanders and devise a new approach for the battle. If I must command all day tomorrow, then I have ample time to change tactics." Sasha smiled wearily. "We cannot win if we don't dare. It is time for us to go all-in."


	11. Field Training III: Escalation

Finally, I managed to update in quicker than a month and a half! I'll try to keep up this pace.

* * *

**Field Training III: Escalation**

**Orange Star Cosmo Territory, Alara Region  
**

**Golden Fortress Command Room**

**December 13, 5:10 PM**

David Carroll couldn't get rid of that itch; it kept coming back throughout the afternoon, no matter what he did to try and stop it. It had been distracting him for a couple hours now, though in some ways, that was welcome; after the first orders were given, it had become more and more difficult to block out the fact that these people were his responsibility. In some ways, it was just like being a soldier on the ground, except he wasn't in harm's way.

No, that wasn't true at all. First off, he didn't know any of the other officers here, and he could tell few of them knew each other from the way they were acting. Personnel shortage, probably; all the crack troops were under Andy's direct command. There was no time to question what he was doing here, though: he was starting to see patterns in the way they moved.

Based on just the satellite view, he could see in his mind some ways that the enemy soldiers might move, and how long it would take his soldiers to get where he wanted them to – estimates that often diverged wildly from the computer's estimates. However, that sixth sense seemed to fade in and out, and whenever that sense was distant, he hoped it wasn't noticeable to the officers around him. Thankfully, they were too distracted by their work or by each other.

His troops had crossed the river and hills by now and were bearing down on the enemy HQ. The two enemy heavy infantry squads had fortified the outside, and a "small" firefight raged down below, no more threatening on the satellite view than the shuttering of a camera. Across the river, the tanks had retreated, trying to make it around to another crossing under Blue Moon control, but if all went well, Andy would have control of the crossing by the time they arrived. If not, then David's troops were to set charges and destroy the HQ, then head back across the river, where the tanks wouldn't be able to follow.

The HQ looked more sophisticated than the images he'd seen in training. For one thing, it wasn't by itself; there were some small fortifications surrounding it, and even a wire-topped wall around the HQ's perimeter. Higher up in the tower, there were snipers.

David could see the threat lines even on the satellite map, clustered so close that they couldn't be distinguished from each other, but he tried his best to ignore them; he was acutely aware through an ache in his chest that he wasn't an OF, and couldn't create a Comnet. He certainly wouldn't be able to warn an individual soldier about incoming small-arms fire in time.

The Command Room continued to buzz with the sound of officers listening to the yells and reports of the troops on the ground. David could do nothing but watch as his three platoons fired away at the enemy's two, advantages and disadvantages disappearing into a portrait of two groups of humans trying their hardest to wipe the other out.

* * *

**Frontline near Spire Hills HQ**

**5:12 PM**

"I ever tell you how much I hate the outdoors?" asked Staff Sergeant Matvei Shevsky, leader of Force Gamma's 5th Squad, struggling to see over the rocky, grassless slope that lead to the Blue Moon HQ. The din of weapons fire had died down; despite the radio chatter in the ears of the soldiers, it still seemed that an uncomfortable silence lay over the muddy field.

"Fourteen times now, Matt," growled Staff Sergeant Thomas Kurse over the radio. "And yeah, there is a goddamn sniper or three in the HQ. So shut up and let Hops do the pathfinding."

"What pathfinding? Let's just drop some smoke and rush the tower." Shevsky stared into his weapon's red-dot sight. "All you gotta do is get my team over there."

No response over the radio. Shevsky sighed and turned to his neighbor and second-in-command, Sergeant Mallory "Chaser" Mateer. "It was only three times," he complained.

"It would do us better to find a flanking position," Chaser drawled.

"Or we could just pop smoke and dash." Shevsky squinted down the sights. Still nothing.

A beeping noise rang from his earpiece, and a faint highlight appeared over one of the windows of the HQ Tower, courtesy of the goggles he had. He slid down the slope until he was comfortable, stopping at a slightly-sunken patch of ground; he wasn't taking any chances today. He really wasn't a good judge of whether or not anyone could hit from there, but he figured that if even part of the window was visible to him, then that sniper could see him as well.

"I ever tell-" He was rewarded with a sharp jab to his ribs. "Fine, sheesh."

"Shevsky, it's your chance. Hops found us a safe approach to the HQ. I've marked it on your AR. Rendezvous with Hops at the waypoint."

"Acknowledged." Shevsky signaled the other four of them and they disappeared down the slope, the other infantry groups filling in the gaps they left.

He led his troops back down the hill, following the waypoints displayed on his goggles and keeping a lookout for any Blue Moon troops that the commanders may have missed. As it turned out, it was one of his luckier days; Hops' route was actually safe for once, taking him through a small wooded thicket down south and back up on a more heavily-sloped part of the hill. Perfect cover from the snipers; just a short climb up and over the cliff, and they'd be right there.

Near the edge of the forest, he ran into Sergeant Noreen "Skip" Kirts and her scouting partner, Corporal Eugene "Hops" Rednall. These were the squad members he trusted with open-air missions like these.

"Thanks for waiting to start the party." Shevsky looked at the dirt hill; kind of steep, but scalable. "What's the plan?"

"We've found ourselves a blind spot in their sniper positions. It's steep, so I wouldn't shoot 'til you're up top unless you want a quick way back down. They've probably got us on satellite cam right now, but if we toss 'em a pineapple and break a nice gap in the wall around the tower, there'll just be some sandbags between us and the HQ." Skip gestured to the slope. "Well, time's a wastin'."

Shevsky hated slopes almost as much as he hated the outdoors, though he never let this particular fact slip. If the enemy were to spot them, then a quick roll down might actually be the best option. However, this time was a little more nerve-wracking; he was almost at the top when the shouting started and the bullets splashed near them.

A split-second decision; Shevsky went prone and clung to the side of the hill uncomfortably. He saw Hops toss a concussion grenade towards the point marked on the back of his goggles, but as much as he wanted to dive for the level ground above, he didn't feel like taking any chances of being too close to that pineapple when it goes off.

He heard no more; damn. The shooters must have been in the forest, but satellite camera should have spotted enemies there and the commander should've warned them. If there were enemies below, that meant it wouldn't be too hard a shot to pop his entire squad at once, and then it would be another hundred points towards Sergeant Kurse's incompetence. That raised a good question, though: if they were target turkeys right now, then why had their assailants stopped firing?

The grenade went off, and Shevsky gladly pulled himself to level ground, just as another volley of bullets sounded off from below. This time, he felt a *zip* on the side of his combat vest; didn't sound like most bullets did, but now wasn't the time to question that.

Though the thoughts came methodically, Shevsky didn't stop moving; he was already up and over the slope, scrambling on all fours towards the side of the HQ Tower, eyes scanning the wall that was still ten long meters away. Good; the grenade had managed to blast a hole in it, and enough of one that they wouldn't be in any danger of electrocution from the wires up top.

No Blue Moon soldiers circling around the sandbags to their location, either – no, wait, there's a couple of them coming around the corner. Three more meters to the fence, perhaps twelve to the sandbags. Now that was his preferred combat range.

Shevsky was already bringing his rifle sights up to his face. He squeezed off a couple rounds, and both soldiers fell; one of them was shot by Skip, who was partially obscured behind a large rock. Good; she'd found a little cover.

They'd lost time; thank goodness there wasn't a watchtower covering the area. Shevsky checked the map on his goggles. The map showed no more enemies behind the sandbags on their side. The rest were still out front for some reason. He gestured, and the group of them stood up and ran the remaining distance to the sandbags.

"Something weird's going on, Kurse. We only had two Moonies try to stop us, and not prepared ones either, unless you count the ones in the woods you failed to warn me about."

"What Moonies in the woods?" Kurse didn't hide his confusion.

"There was gunfire from down there. They could've fragged us in seconds, but they didn't."

"We're not getting anything from down there."

Shevsky hissed. "Fine, be useless. Speaking of useless, how are things on your end?"

"Just flank them before our advantage is lost, Matt. Maybe their commander's on the toilet." The map on Shevsky's goggles updated to show that the Blue Moon forces out front were reduced in number from before.

Shevsky turned to his squad. "Alright. There's a bunch of them out front. I don't know if they're all on stupid or something, but they aren't responding to us. It's us against maybe 20 of 'em left outside the HQ. We've also got to watch out for the ones in the southwest watch tower. Are you ready?"

* * *

**5:57 PM**

"Gunfire from the woods?" David repeated. "If there was someone there, we would have caught it on satcam."

"Check it again. Matt's hardly wrong." The guy didn't sound convinced so much as nervous; something told David that this wasn't something to ignore.

"Got it. Lieutenant, uh..." He thought for a moment about how to say it. "Full sat sweep, grid area Golf Oscar Niner."

"Sir." The officer moved his fingers across the keys like spiders dancing on a chessboard. David's screen beeped; a message from Nell.

"General? What is it?"

"Please, just call me Nell." She leaned forward. "Just a reminder, keep an eye on the greater situation of the battle. For instance, Satcom reports enemy reinforcements coming from the east, three infantry platoons strong."

"ETA?" He almost choked; that could be trouble.

"Four hours. Don't rush it; that should be ample time, given that the specialist squad is in position. However, that means we won't have time to secure the HQ. We'll have to hope that the enemy reinforcements consider this position lost and go elsewhere."

"Um... ma'am, what if we were to pull back?" David fidgeted with the edges of the screen. "Not to question your authority, but I mean, what would be the likely outcome if we retreated and attacked again when we're stronger?"

"That's actually a good question, Advisor, and you shouldn't feel nervous to ask. Unfortunately, it's not practical; the only reason we have a chance here is because they don't have enough troops left to fully staff the defenses around the HQ. I'd rather we defend this position from the top of the hill. We won't get another chance at this."

"Alright. I'll... do it." David saw his satellite map expand eastwards, and new markers signifying the oncoming enemies appeared. Nell's face had already disappeared from the screen; he didn't question it. It was already a bit much that she was in contact with him like this to begin with.

* * *

"On my mark... now."

Three rifle grenades shot past the wall of the skyscraper and into the fortifications near the front of the HQ, sending chunks flying up in the air. Shevsky, hidden with his squad behind a parked Blue Moon APC up near the HQ's wall, listened for return fire, and heard nothing except a single wailing scream.

"Weren't too many of them out there," remarked Hops.

"Don't be so quick to figure that." Shevsky waited a few more moments.

"This is HQ. Satview says you got 'em all. Feel free to approach and breach, but you're on the clock here."

"Yeah, I know. Incoming east, kill the snipers before then. You got their positions yet?"

"Head to the HQ's basement and cut the power. With the shields down, we'll be able to get visual in the building and tell you whether to blow and run or sweep and clear."

Despite the lack of greater air support, Kurse's 3rd Platoon had a couple scout drones in the air, which would be able to take infrared images of the HQ's insides if it weren't for the HQ Tower's inbuilt defenses. Specifically, as a measure to protect the expensive equipment inside, the structure was field-reinforced, making the building all but impossible to destroy while the power was still up. Thankfully, the shielded door hadn't been rebuilt since Blue Moon had taken the tower, or else it would take specialized explosives to breach through.

That shield wasn't limited to protecting against weapons; the field that permeated the building blocked both external and internal cameras from using wall-piercing imaging of almost all types unless they were calibrated properly; even old thermal imaging could only see what was in the same room. In the field, it meant that cameras controlled by the HQ's controller were able to function, while the invaders would have to make do without it. However, with the power cut and the field down, their drones would have only a little trouble getting exact numbers and positions of all Blue Moon soldiers in the HQ.

It wouldn't be practical to destroy the HQ tower, but if they were to destroy the generator and other important electronics, it would make the position useless to Blue Moon until they repaired it, aside from the defensive benefits. A hollow victory, but who really cared?

The squad advanced slowly, moving between covered points as any exposed area was vulnerable, splitting up into its usual teams once they reached the door. Skip and Hops stayed with Shevsky, positioned on either side of the gate leading to the HQ. Chaser took command of team A, standing on the left of the door with Loner (Sergeant Autumn Lonus) and Staller (Corporal Leo Hawking). On the other side, Shevsky's other commander, Crock (Sergeant Kengol Cornet), took command of team B, Mud (Corporal Jack Cassidy) and Stone (Corporal Ray Talbot).

Explosives fired off and the door flew in, followed by grenades and bullets from the two subteam leaders. With their infrared goggles, they could see shapes through the smoke since the door had no shields. Shevsky could see four warm figures inside; all fell under the hail of bullets, barely a single shot fired back.

"This is the point where they'd surrender if they were smart," Hops said. "They should know we're Spec Ops by now."

"Moonies aren't exactly known for their brains," Chaser muttered. "Orders, sir?"

Shevsky pressed against the HQ's outer wall and peered through the front door; the atrium didn't look any different from most Orange Star-built HQ towers. The large reception area, spanning about a quarter of the tower's width in the center, was stocked with barricades defending the four elevator towers in the room's center. Above was a network of catwalks easily usable by defenders (except in the case of heavy weapons); these extended about five stories up, and then the five floors above those could only be accessed by the elevators from here.

Another way of accessing those floors would be to use the other stairwells and elevators near the edges of the building, where the outer hallways were. The living quarters, office areas, cafeterias, and such were accessible from those hallways, located on the first five floors. All sensitive military equipment was either higher in the tower or underground.

The underground passages went three to five more floors deep; those were Shevsky's favorite place to fight.

All of the easily-defensible areas and hiding spots meant that any enemy who seized the HQ would have to think very carefully about whether to risk damaging it during the capture. Those catwalks would fall pretty fast with a couple well-placed rockets, for instance. The whole barely-touched look of the atrium (aside from the parts his squad had just shot up) told him that the previous inhabitants had surrendered without a fight.

"Team A, sweep and clear the ground floor. Team B, sweep and clear the basements. Skip, Hops, and I are going to switch off that generator."

* * *

"That's it?" David felt the knots throughout his body begin to unravel. "You're ordering me to a different front already?"

"The outside of the HQ is secure, and we have trouble in a couple other areas. I'm transferring command of the Golden Fortress to Lieutenant Thaner; she's on her way up the elevator. You are to head north to the Riverdale National Guard Outpost."

David stood, then paused. "North? Am I joining up with... with OF-Lieutenant Andy yet?"

"Not quite. However, I think you'll be very interested in this assignment." Nell's mouth went into that same practiced smile he kept seeing from her. "The HQ you'll be assaulting is the location used as a staging area by the Blue Moon forces that attacked the Golden Fortress."

If those bastards hadn't attacked, then Wreck would still be...

"Are they still there?"

"Reports state that their commander and most forces have been reassigned. However, the tank platoons that survived the battle have retreated here for repairs. A few of them are still active, but your force should have the advantage in numbers."

"I'm on my way." David marched towards the elevator at the edge of the room, not a word for the officers that surrounded him. He felt they were just as happy to see him go.

As he arrived, the doors opened and a dull-eyed woman in full uniform stepped out and saluted. "Advisor Carroll."

It took a couple moments for David to salute back; he still wasn't fully used to officers saluting him. "Platoon Commander Thaner. At ease."

"Good hunting, Advisor." Without a further word, she strolled past, manner tight but upright. David had initially been reminded of Steele, but those few seconds showed him the difference. She held her threat lines closer than Steele did.

As the elevator went down, David wondered just how that impression had crept so quickly into his thoughts.

* * *

**Jefferson Tower – Central Conference Room**

**6:30 PM**

"I see." Nell folded her hands below her chin and bowed as if in thought.

"I see?" General Payton Vance's face twitched, and his fingers fumbled about, opening and closing as if searching for a neck to grasp. "Blue Moon has opened hostilities on the mainland! The border is in open warfare! All but one of our Breakcoms are abroad! And all you have to say is 'I see?'"

"Calm, Vance," General Bernstein soothed, though he was rather removed from the situation; of the three generals, he was the only one not at the Jefferson Tower.

"Only one of us can use the coldborn killer excuse, Bernstein!" Vance snapped. "And you! Miriam! Don't you have something to say about this?"

"Payton!" General Carpenter raised her voice in response. "We've planned for this event, haven't we? We made sure sufficient forces remained behind. Even if that Breakcom we left there is CO-Captain Rachel, who has no experience coordinating something of this scale-"

"And my sister won't be fully in charge of it anyways," Nell finished. "General Foster will be coordinating the defense."

"General... Foster. As in, Clara Foster." Some of the color drained from General Carpenter's face. "She's come out of retirement?"

"That she has." Bernstein sighed. "Apparently the recent crisis warranted it. Personally, I'm glad for this. Though her methods are somewhat... extreme... she has proven to be a capable commander in the past, particularly in terms of counterattack."

Vance narrowed his eyes. "I don't care who's in charge. I just want to know why the three of you are brushing this off so easily!"

"The attack on the mainland is a diversion," Nell said. "They're trying to make us panic and do something rash."

"That doesn't change the danger in it." Vance's face was turning a duller shade of red, though, and his fingers had stopped moving so quickly. "Defending the mainland should be the priority. Our little colony here doesn't mean much in-"

Nell sighed loudly, cutting him off; Vance's glare was directed back at her again. "General. Isn't it irrational to worry now? Even if it were a major problem, you wouldn't be able to do anything about it until we break the siege here. After all, Blue Moon forces are still less than a mile from here, and we can't exactly have Bernstein's forces abandon Falcon Island; it's one of the few airbases we still control on the continent."

"I..." Vance looked choked. "Fine. But in that vein, we need a quicker plan to break the siege on the capital. Despite our successes in the northwest... Nell, are you sure this is a good time to give that Jackal command of the day ops? It will all be for nothing if the Tower falls and we are captured!"

Nell slumped over a little. "Trust me for once, General Vance. My mentorship of the Advisors will grant us success later in the war. And remember, if they do breach the Jefferson Tower, they'll have to get through me."

* * *

**Spire Hills HQ**

**Floor B2**

**6:56 PM**

"Shevsky. This is Lieutenant Thaner. We've got an update on those gunshots you heard."

"Better late than never." Shevsky and his team had just finished clearing the second basement floor, if one could call it that; aside from some mines, there were no hostiles to be found. "So, what's the scoop?"

"Whoever it was, they're long gone. We did pick up a couple dead Moonies in the forest, but we weren't the ones who took them out. Sounds like you've got yourself a guardian angel of some kind."

"Or devil." In the outdoors, there were too many variables. Inside, you could know where an attack would come from... unless it came from outside, in which case it was the outdoors' fault once again.

"True. I'll keep searching. Can you move any faster, though? Enemy reinforcements are only three hours out now."

"I get it, I get it. This whole place is rigged up. Cut me some slack."

"Spec Ops isn't supposed to use that phrase. Get it done. Thaner out."

Shevsky's communicator was overwhelmed by static. He sighed at Hops, who rolled his eyes at him. "She loves me."

"I can see," Skip said dryly. "Can we move on now?"

"Sure, sure." The three of them began to descend the stairs, keeping eyes out for anything unusual, whether it be on the ground or the ceiling. They got almost all the way down – twelve small steps, two big steps, 90 degree turn, repeat four times, an enclosed winding tunnel of stairs – but before they reached the final turn, Hops signaled with his hand.

"Ceiling mine," Hops whispered, pointing at a shape on the steps above them.

"They're probably waiting downstairs," Shevsky muttered back. "Let's send it back at them. Hops, you do the first step."

The three of them took several steps back, just in case they were about to set off the mine by accident. Hops took aim with his rifle and fired off a couple rounds into the concrete on the side of the mine, then into three of the four clamps that attached the mine to the stairs. The mine broke off from the ceiling and bounced down the stairs, and the faint sound of voices came from there, but there was no sound of an explosion.

"Damn. Must be remote. Plan B?"

"Well, they already know we're here now. Skip, use the Cracker."

Skip shifted her rifle to her left hand and removed a small, pistol-shaped object from her belt. She peeked around the corner, then aimed the device down the stairs, until a small click was heard.

"The mine's circuits are fried. Also, I'm obligated to tell you, just in case your brain's not working today..."

"Yeah. The Moonies down there have moved." Shevsky made a hand signal, and he and Skip switched places, allowing him to peer around the corner.

"It's a good thing for us that the Moonies haven't fixed up any of the cams they trashed when they took this place," observed Hops.

"Their loss. Alright, there's a wide landing down there, reaching five meters from the base of the stairs. There's a doorway down there; it leads to a narrow hallway. Skip, you see any more traps?"

"No, sir, though the generator should be on this floor. It'd be odd if they didn't make a stand soon."

"Or maybe they plan to blow the gen themselves. Of course, that would be an admission that those reinforcements aren't coming here after all..." Shevsky hopped a couple times, feeling his adrenaline kick in again. "Alright. We're doing this the standard way."

Step after step, shotgun held high, Shevsky descended the rest of the stairs, eyes shifting rapidly back and forth around the landing and into the hallway. The hall was another narrow stone tunnel with several metal service doors on the sides – perfect places for those Moonies to be hiding. They would have to sweep each room one at a time before going down to the generator.

A faint clicking sound reached Shevsky's ears, and he saw one of the doors on the left move. His hands brought up the shotgun in one quick motion, and he fired off a slug towards the opening; he didn't expect to hit anything, but he really didn't want a grenade bouncing around in the hallway.

His action had the desired reaction; the door slipped closed, and he took that opportunity to dash to the wall to the left of the entrance to the hallway. Skip and Hops pressed against the wall on the other side, aiming their rifles at the nearest two doors on the left side.

The nearest door on the right squeaked open; Shevsky's hands were already in position to toss one of his three remaining grenades. He let it fly and stepped backwards several times in case his enemy was fast. Thankfully, that wasn't the case. He saw Skip fire her rifle around the corner, and from the hallway, the sound of a gasp.

One enemy down. After the sound of a grenade blast told him it was safe to look, he glanced out around the corner again, and saw his would-be assailant lying face down on the floor in the middle of the hall. The door of the room she had come from had fallen onto her legs after being blown off its hinges by the grenade he'd tossed into the room.

Silence for a few seconds. Another door creaked, and Hops fired a grenade from his rifle. The sound of bullets rang out, and as Shevsky peered around the corner again, a blast sent his staggering to the side.

Everything went strange for a moment, and then his brain recovered its focus; he noted the sound of rifle fire from the corridor, and saw his squadmates still firing. A wet feeling; was it his head, or something else? His goggles were cracked, all Augmented Reality systems offline. He backed away from the wall a little, then fired a couple slugs down the corridor. That should be... 7 rounds left.

A pain shot up Shevsky's back, and he fell against the wall again, his breathing painful. Skip glanced at him a moment, then fired a rifle grenade down the corridor. As Hops switched places with her, taking position at the corner of the wall, Skip gave Shevsky a couple hand signals: six enemies in corridor and rooms, trying to assault down corridor. Another signal: are you okay?

Shevsky made an "O" with his thumb and pinky: light injury, nothing crippling. He lifted his shotgun and fired down the corridor, catching and severing the gloved hand of a Moonie who was about to toss a grenade.

The three of them dived towards the corners of the room; that grenade was going to go off in the hall, and Shevsky was already pretty sure that the blast from earlier was a misaimed grenade, perhaps near the wall of the room he'd blown out, perhaps even within the room. Whatever the case, he had been peering around the corner when it had gone off, and the concussive force had knocked him around; perhaps some shrapnel had glanced off his goggles. That could have been much worse.

The sound of a bang, and then Shevsky was back in the corridor, unloading another slug into the chest of a panicked Moonie who decided to up and charge the group. The soldier was knocked off his feet by the blast and fell on his butt a couple meters away, but didn't drop his rifle. As he struggled to raise it towards Shevsky's head, Shevsky pulled the trigger on his shotgun one last time, the barrel of his weapon aimed at the young soldier's face.

* * *

"Sir." Skip slipped under Shevsky's arm and caught him before he fell. "Sit down for a moment."

"Well... fine, just a moment. Hops, cover us." Shevsky let the strength drain from his arms and legs, and he clattered down against the wall. "Did they fix my face any, Skip?"

"Still the same ugly mug as usual, sir." Skip punched him lightly on the forehead.

Shevsky closed his eyes. "Give me a few minutes to rest up. Is Team B done with their sweep?"

"They're on their way," Hops called. "We can have 'em take the lead if you want."

"Tell them to sweep the side corridors. We're making a beeline for the generator room." Shevsky pulled himself up again. "That's just a left turn at the end of the hall, then a right, and finally the door at the end. Shouldn't be any asshole doors there, either."

Hops let out a mocking whoop. "Great. By the way, Lieutenant Thaner wants to talk to you."

Shevsky activated his comm. "I know, I know, hurry, right?"

"I figured I don't need to tell you that, Shevsky. Actually, we did find something odd. First, you were right that some of the Blue Moon soldiers guarding the HQ were missing."

"See? What did I tell you?"

"No, it's stranger than that. Out front, there are signs that some of them weren't shot by you."

"Say that again?"

"You may have been shot at by the force in the forest, but whoever it was in the forest was also shooting at our enemy."

Most people would be pleased to hear that, but Shevsky? "Great. More unknowns." He watched as Hops opened the door at the end of the hall. Hops gave a signal; all clear.

"I ever tell you how much I hate the outdoors?"


	12. Intermission: Battle Preparations

**Intermission: Battle Preparations  
**

**Transcript – Excerpt from speech delivered to the Eastern Hemisphere Diplomatic League**

**Retired General Caroline Sinclair**

**April 16th, 487 NE – 30 years before the Fifth Cosmo War**

Ladies and gentlemen. Representatives of Orange Star, Green Earth, Yellow Comet, Red Cluster.

I have come today to address the concerns of the Peace Commission regarding the anomalous occurrences that marked the most violent incidents of what has popularly been called the Great World War.

My part in the kindling of this crisis has become the domain of rumors and speculation among independent media outlets. As the conflict is drawing to a close, Orange Star High Command has chosen to declassify the details, in order to take the first step towards a lasting peace.

It is true that I supervised a top-secret weapons program aimed at harnessing a newly discovered form of energy based on quantum theories, including the recently-confirmed Edinoff Effect. Several prototype "X-Bombs" were built and tested by Orange Star in the deserts. Others were used against Green Earth and Yellow Comet at the height of the war, in the summer of the year 482.

However, these and other Orange Star secret weapons were not the cause of the widespread, almost supernatural events reported by observers and soldiers during the latter half of the war. Particularly, the rumored "Command Network" is real, but is not the result of a mechanical or electronic device. Rather, this phenomenon is the creation of certain individuals that have suddenly and inexplicably developed as-of-yet unexplained abilities.

Yes. The anomalous destructive events across our nations are due to the actions, intended or unintended, of certain individuals. These individuals have the ability to interface with some yet unknown potential field and cause widespread changes in the environment, though the possibilities and limitations of these people are yet unknown.

This anomaly has been called Biological Radiative Entropy Acceleration Kinesis, nicknamed "Break" for its destructive capacity. I think we can all agree that this power seems almost as if it was engineered for war. In the case of the Command Network, for instance, affected individuals have been able to coordinate networks of soldiers within close range, allowing near-instant information exchange between them. This results in vastly increased performance for soldiers in attached units.

As we come to understand more about this new phenomenon, the face of war may well change forever. This war was merely a preview for the destruction that is to come if we do not keep these abilities in check. I have come before the League to argue that our concept of war must change with the times. If the specific cause of Break enhancement were to be determined, then a nation might be able to mass-produce "super commanders" of this variety, and the world would be drowned in the tides of blood to come.

I come to you not only as a General of the Orange Star Military, not only as a citizen of this world, but as a Break-enhanced individual myself. I can attest to the fact that our minds have been affected by our abilities; I would not think twice about using them to the fullest possible extent if it were necessary to protect the nation of Orange Star. The same applies to the deployment of soldiers; any amount of losses are expected and acceptable in one part of my mind, as long as it is the most efficient route to accomplishing the mission. Another part of my mind, one which still clings to humanity, is appalled at these thoughts.

I do not mean to say that all Break-enhanced individuals think this way; however, preliminary results from military psychiatrists have yet found nothing to contradict this line of thought. Therefore, the minimum step that the League absolutely must take would be the enactment of a set of laws and protections for the common soldier, not only to protect them against Break-enhanced individuals, but also to right the countless injustices inherent in our system of war.

For many of the atrocities committed on all sides were not ordered or carried out by Break Commanders, but by normal soldiers, carrying out the orders they were given by normal commanding officers. The devastation of this war speaks for itself. How many more civilians must be targeted before we say enough is enough? How many more prisoners of war must be tormented before we say these inhumane practices must end?

I may appear a hypocrite, speaking of this when I myself gave the orders to develop such a horrific weapon as the X-Bomb. Nevertheless, I speak to you all from the bottom of my heart... from the heart of our shared humanity. War is an inevitable fact of the human condition; philosophers and researchers throughout history have agreed upon it. That does not mean our wars must torment and kill as a matter of course. When these options are available to a calculating strategist, the most brutal, efficient method will be chosen if there is no humanity to inhibit it. When these options are not available, then the strategist will adapt.

Ladies and gentlemen, representatives of Orange Star, Green Earth, Yellow Comet, Red Cluster. We stand on the brink of a new era, an era that has opened our eyes to the destructive potential of humanity, to the destruction we have already caused throughout history. It is time for us to take a step towards controlling that power and ensure that it does not touch more lives than necessary.

We have already begun the process through technology: the miracle cure Emeraldine developed at the League is an excellent example. Soon, cures for the mental ravages of war may follow, perhaps from study of Break-enhanced individuals. However, we cannot be satisfied with just that. The time has come; we must formalize laws and directions for the conduct of war and the treatment of civilians and prisoners. I also urge the League to enact restrictions on the usage of Break abilities and protections for Break-enhanced individuals who do not wish to contribute their talents to the military.

Ladies and gentlemen of the League... of the world. We stand at the crossroads of history. One path leads to destruction – not just of our ideas of morality – not just of our species – but perhaps our entire planet. The other leads to a new era of enlightenment. It leads to an era of stability. It leads to an era where the common man can look at our civilizations and declare that we have abolished the crimes of war.

I place my trust in your judgment today. Thank you for your time.

* * *

**December 13, 8:10 PM**

"A little light reading while you travel?" David almost jumped out of his seat in the APC at the sound of that voice. He was alone in the APC aside from the driver, so...

Nell giggled from over the transceiver on his laptop. "Sorry. It's good for commanders to read up on our nation's _real_ history."

"Don't you have something better to do?" ...was what David wanted to ask. Instead,

"That General there." David couldn't quite put his finger on it, but... something about her, based on the picture attached to the file... she kind of resembled Nell a little.

"You could say she was my predecessor during the Great World War." Nell's tone was neutral. "That meeting of the Diplomatic League eventually lead to the adoption of the Houston Accords."

"It sounds like only a little of what she was talking about was actually ratified," David observed.

"Specifically, the provisions protecting the rights of Breakcoms were completely omitted," finished Nell.

David's body flinched as a painful scene came back to his vision. That group of men in suits and dark glasses, his brother waving a lazy goodbye with a grin, the limousine driving off...

That image warned him away from asking the question it brought up: was his brother even given a choice about whether to leave? Nell may act friendly, but as David reminded himself, she's still his commander, and he didn't need her thinking he might go rogue or anything. Did he even really want to know the answer?

"Do you know how you feel about being a Projector yet?"

David didn't answer, instead switching to another file on the computer: a battle report from the Great World War.

"I'll ask later, then. Though I'd advise you to start thinking about the next engagement soon. It's not going as well as we expected."

Nell's tone said "order," not "suggestion." David closed the file and opened his secure e-mail; Nell had sent him shots of the satellite overview and information on the situation.

The face on the other end of the transceiver shifted to a neutral, yet commanding arrangement. "The Lost Fortress is southeast of our front lines. Your task is to take the Blue Moon outpost across the rivers to the east, then use it as a staging point for our attack on the Lost Fortress. However, we ran into more resistance than expected on the way."

"Those tank groups don't look like much..." David paused, staring at the map. "How'd our tanks get thrashed so badly?"

"Our tanks should have been able to break through, but we had bad luck: the enemy commander relocated to the Lost Fortress, and the Blue Moon company in this area is within the range of her Command Network."

David's pulse beat faster, and he scrolled down to the enemy commander's dossier.

OF-Major Petrine. Specialized in defending natural terrain. Able to activate an OF Power, Fortress Wall, which blocks attacks coming from one direction. Tactical suggestion: flank attack.

"Let me guess: she used her OF Power, and we didn't have enough Mech infantry in the area, so our tanks alone couldn't do anything about her tanks on the bridges." David's vision narrowed; with an OF Power like that, this terrain was perfect for her.

"Exactly. Without infantry, it's impossible to flank her on a river. Thankfully, a company of them is on the way here, ETA 0500 hours, tomorrow morning."

"Roger that. So I just have to hold position until then?"

Nell smiled. "That's the idea. We have a couple anti-tank squads already in the area. Order them to hold the near bridge while the tanks retreat; our base in the area is well-supplied, so we'll be able to conduct field repairs at the industrial areas."

"And by the time morning comes, we'll be able to counterattack." David looked around. "Actually, I had a question. This APC convoy... according to the schedule, they're staying at our outpost with me."

"Ah, yes. You won't have access to them immediately, I'm afraid, but they'll be ready for you during the final push on the Lost Fortress." Nell leaned forward. "I'm putting my trust in you. Success in this operation may allow us to eliminate the enemy OF from the picture."

Something in David's expression must have been funny, because Nell's thin smile widened and her frame visibly relaxed. "Don't be intimidated by the prospect of facing her, by the way. She may be a Major, but very few of her command operations have been against other Break-enhanced commanders."

"I'll act like the last operation, then."

"That's the spirit. Oh, excuse me." A few moments of silence, as Nell turned her head and exchanged words with someone offscreen. When she turned back-

"It looks like I have to go. Call if you need something."

"Got it. Oh..." David remembered the question he'd wanted to ask before he was distracted by the records. "Where's OF Andy?"

"Still north, at the very edges of Petrine's Comnet radius. He was at your destination earlier, but had to return to the main front earlier than planned." Nell sighed, then muttered something to herself:

"Though I wasn't expecting the enemy OF to be capable of projecting such a large Comnet..."

* * *

**Spire Hills HQ**

**Floor B2**

**One hour ago**

**7:09 PM**

Staff Sergeant Matvei Shevsky burst into the generator room, shotgun at the ready. Three targets, from his sight. His gun stopped; the three of them were unarmed, gestering wildly, with hands in the air.

"We surrender!" Well, that was what it sounded like, anyways.

"Finally. _Someone_ here understands their position." He kept his gun trained on the one with the most distinctive uniform, just in case. "You guys janitors or something?"

"We're with Engineering," stammered one of the soldiers. The fractured bodies in the hallway seemed to drain what was left of their will to fight.

Skip strode over to the generator and removed a small object attached to it, with wires hanging off. "Looks like they had the same idea we did. Maybe we should've just let 'em go through with it."

"Keep that bomb for now. We'll need to use it if and when Blue Moon gets back here, except we'll be doing it right this time. Skip, Hops, secure the prisoners; we'll have Team B bring 'em in after we've switched the breakers."

* * *

**7:15 PM**

"Thaner here. We've got satmaps of the HQ, sending them to the team's goggles."

Shevsky was leaning against the wall in the stairwell. "My goggles are fried, Kelly. Can you tell me what we're up against?"

"No more Moonies down where you are. There's a group of 'em on the top floor, mostly unarmed, probably support personnel. They may be going for heli evac."

"They got choppers nearby?"

"Not to our knowledge. Maybe in the Dark Spot to the south. Maybe they're just hoping."

Shevsky grinned. "Awesome. How many combat troops?"

"Looks like about 23 armed soldiers left, spread out on the top five floors."

"How many on our end? My squad's taken two hits." Team A had run into some trouble, but thankfully, no injuries that Emeraldine couldn't fix.

"Aside from your squad, we've got three other squads still on the first three floors, ready to sweep upwards. They've got six wounded between them, and one bread." Bread, not toast, so brain-dead, but savable.

"More than enough to frag some Moonies. Let's get this done real quick, then. ETA on the enemy reinforcements?"

"Still two and a half hours out. As in, don't expect sleep tonight."

Shevsky grinned. "Send me a new pair o' goggles and it's a deal."

"Hell no, Shevsky. That's your job."

"Fine, fine, I'll just borrow 'em from Chaser or Staller." He much preferred the two of them didn't try to fight in the state they were in.

"You'd better do it fast, because you're leading the sweep. Med camp's in the west wing, first floor. Thaner out."

* * *

**Blue Moon Forward HQ (Coral Fortress), Alara Region**

**December 13, 7:30 PM**

"We lost Spire Hills?" The clipped tones belonged to a Blue Moon officer seated at a finished wooden table, one which looked quite out of place in the bright rotunda of the Command Room. Behind him, in the Break Amplifier, slumped a pale woman wearing a thick brown jacket, straight blond hair sloppily slipping from her cossack-style hat.

The officer at the desk adjusted his thick spectacles. "I will deliver your request for further reinforcements to Major Petrine. The OF is currently engaged with the central fighting, so if I were you, I would not count on receiving further support. The company arriving in just a few hours should be more than sufficient to dislodge them."

"With due respect, sir..." The voice on the other end hissed. "Most of our soldiers on the lower HQ floors have been wiped out, with only one confirmed kill by our troops. Additionally, there is the issue of the friendly fire incident earlier..."

The officer at the desk looked up slightly. "I will be honest with you, Lieutenant. Losing your position for a couple hours will not inconvenience our other fronts. Even if the incoming company cannot dislodge them, they will tie them to that position and our main front will not have to worry about being flanked."

"Yes... sir. I will adhere to the battle plan. Spire HQ Out."

The officer leaned back, using the Comnet to send his data to the woman behind him. 'Your thoughts, Major Petrine?'

The OF frowned slightly, despite her trance. 'I'd prefer not to lose that HQ, but so be it. Have them follow standard procedure for departing an HQ.'

Standard procedure was to steal or destroy as much equipment as possible. 'Very well.'

'Anything else to report, Captain Bashmet?'

Bashmet looked back down at his screen, scrolling down the reports his support officers had sent. One in particular stood out:

'There is one thing that could be a problem. Satellites show a small force, perhaps a company, of Bowlheads making camp near the central front. Based on their movements, there's a prediction that they aim to reinforce the front attacking the Lost Fortress.'

A slight ripple of annoyance came through the Comnet. 'Where is Orange Star getting all this equipment? Haven't we destroyed most of their factories?'

'It's... just infantry. The advance forces have some heavy weapons.'

'An infantry company, you say.' The Comnet's consistency shimmered in Bashmet's mind; the gleam of tiny crystals buried in the rock.

'They must be trying to delay us, then. There isn't much that infantry can do against the tank groups we have down there, and their own tanks on that front have been all but wiped out. The enemy commander's interference was unexpected, but nonetheless, their decision to press the attack will prove fatal within hours.'

Bashmet didn't feel so certain, but he trusted his superior's judgment, and in terms of defense, she was the best mind Blue Moon had. There was one worry; it had only been a couple months since her promotion. She wasn't used to coordinating a Command Network this large, so would it be possible that she might miss something?

Petrine spoke again through the Comnet. 'I want to concentrate my attention on that Orange Star OF in the Creshburn Hills. After all, he's the reason we haven't secured even the central front yet. If we can take him captive or kill him...'

Ah. That was her plan. Well, Bashmet could get behind that. 'Very well. No reinforcements for the other fronts, then?'

'Exactly. In any case, I don't intend on letting them past my tanks at the river.'

* * *

**Orange Star Temporary Field Camp**

**8:20 PM**

Gordon Tebowski, formerly known as "Turd," followed the lead of the other recruits and disembarked from the APC; not a word had emerged from his mouth throughout the journey to the field HQ. The others around him in the APC had been stone-faced and grim – not his ideal environment at all. No, what greeted him as he emerged was something he was more used to dealing with.

The recruits were massed around a makeshift podium, formed from a pile of scraps and tables. From atop the mound, a Sergeant with a scar under his eye yelled down at the newcomers. "Welcome to the 25th Infantry, Company A, Second Platoon! This is where the Army really starts!"

Great; another Levins. Just what he needed.

"Report immediately to your assigned squad, and get cozy with 'em, 'cause you're going straight to the action come tomorrow! Now, I can't have any of you jokers screwing around when that happens – you're going to be a professional unit. You're going to be working like cogs with your squad. I can't make this more clear."

Gordon looked down at his assignment: 2nd Platoon, Squad 3. Squad Leader: Sergeant Emilia Hartgrove. According to the map next to the shouting soldier, that was at the far end of the camp. Better start walking.

Why were his hands shaking? Perhaps it was the atmosphere around the camp; he'd thought the Golden Fortress was tense after the attack, but this place had an even nastier feel to it. Despite the lack of dead or dying soldiers nearby, the stench of death was still dominant in the atmosphere. It was just like that ambush, and Gordon found himself tense, wary of the shadows that flickered in the dimly lit area.

Was it his imagination, or were the soldiers that sat around the crates and vehicles staring at him? No, they were staring at the recruits in general. Gordon could feel the contrast; even if he had actually managed to become the top dog among the recruits, he was still a fledgling among these wounded eagles. The wound he could see across their bodies was not anything physical, but a sort of general hopelessness even beyond that of his home city during the Green Earth occupation.

When he looked closer, he saw that his initial impression had been correct; some of them were looking at him in particular, as well as another recruit. He recognized that one from the ambush. Perhaps it was that trial by fire these veterans could see in them.

Were his shoulders slumped like theirs?

Sergeant Hartgrove was within view. Short military cut, sharp ears, creased uniform, arguing with one of the commissioned quartermasters. From behind him, two other newcomers arrived; one light-haired, weary male, one dark-haired, sullen female. Gordon had seen one of them at the Golden Fortress, perhaps...

"I understand." The Sergeant's conversation ended and the officer walked away, as the three of them stood waiting. When the officer got just out of earshot, Hartgrove scoffed.

"Jeez, how did Levi deal with you people?" The Sergeant turned, then jumped a little, noticing them for the first time. "Are you the freshies from the Golden Fortress?"

Gordon spoke first. "Yes, Sergeant. Private Gordon Tebowski reporting for duty."

"Noted. And you two must be Folger and Tayless."

"Sergeant." The two behind him nodded.

"Alrighty. From your stances, I'm guessing the two of you know each other, and Gordon here doesn't know you. Is that right?" Gordon nodded.

"In that case, I'll have you two assigned to Fireteam A. That one's led by Boss. Gordon, you're in B. Pound's your go-to guy, unless it's me. Understood?"

Odd names. Or perhaps they had a nicknames here too?

"Well, I think the Sergeant would think more highly of you if you called him Boss instead of Sergeant Crumrine."

Straight to the point. Gordon felt a little more at ease.

"Oh, and my callsign's Lead, not Heart. Make that mistake and you're our squad's new mine-forager. Got it?"

"Understood." Gordon waited, while Lead looked around like she'd forgotten something.

"Oh yeah, seems we're moving out tomorrow. I'd get just comfy enough to bond or whatever, but... well, you get the point."

She didn't seem much like a squad leader, but Gordon didn't tell her that, despite his fevered wondering on what that would end up meaning in the field. Also, how did that bode for what the rest of his new squad? What would they be like?

* * *

**8:35 PM**

"Captain Jerry Stoneham, sir." The moustached armored company's commander greeted David at the front of the makeshift HQ, which appeared to be a low-quality prefabricated unit with wires and electronics strewn all over the place; David could see the support officers inside making sure to watch where they stepped.

"Captain." David returned the greeting. "Situation report?"

The Captain laughed bitterly. "Could be worse. Thanks to OF-Captain Andy's earlier supervision, our advance units managed to avoid destruction. However, we'll need some time to regroup and repair. Do you have a plan, sir?"

"There's an anti-tank platoon in the area, right?" David had mentally rehearsed this. "We fall back to the near bridge and hold with anti-tank. The Moonies will have to wait for their infantry to catch up if they want to cross, but by then, it'll be morning and our infantry will have arrived.

"At that point, we'll outnumber them." The Captain nodded. "What about my tanks?"

"Fall back to the industrial areas; the mechanized platoons will cover your retreat. If the Moonies try to chase, they'd better be prepared to lose their tanks too."

"Hm." Stoneham didn't seem entirely convinced. "General Nell said you had some other talents that might be useful. For protecting my men more directly."

What did he mean by that? Did Nell tell him about David's Threat Sight? And how would that be helpful in such a fast-moving situation? Well, it was obvious she at least wanted him to try.

"True. I'm to take supervisory control over the furthest-advanced platoon to ensure their safe return."

"Very well." Stoneham headed back into the command building. "Mind the mess down here. Some fool didn't watch his footing earlier and almost took down the whole system. The engineers are still green, I'm afraid, and had to set this place up in a hurry."

David followed. "No HQ Towers nearby?"

"None functional. Only one down here was abandoned long ago and top brass couldn't be bothered to do anything with it." The Captain sped up. "This whole area is far from strategic, but I suppose you can't really choose where to hold your last stand."

"Not that bad yet."

"Tell that to the guys at the front," Stoneham spat. "All the Emeraldine in the world can't glue you back together if your skull's become a fifty-piece puzzle. High-caliber fire tends to do that sometimes."

Another flash back to the ambush at the store. "Sorry," David sputtered.

"Sure. Well, that's what we get for expecting some peace after the Moon Revolts five years ago." Stoneham sat at the large console in the room's center and entered a password. "We should have gone after them instead of leaving them be."

The Captain finished his motions at the computer within seconds. "System's yours now. Lemme tell my boys you're legit."

"Charlie Command to Charlie Third. Moses has returned with the tablets. Don't make him break 'em, now."

David wasn't quite sure he got the reference. Stoneham tapped the desk, squinting. "That's your cue, kid."

This guy was starting to annoy him, but it really didn't seem like a good time to get into a power struggle. One look at the satellite maps, and he could see why Nell had told him to hurry. Four of the five tanks from the platoon were still moving, retreating from the bridge, but only one of them was still in any condition to fight. After scrolling through the damage reports, it was clear that the platoon was just steps away from annihilation.

Tactical mindset on. "Damage" here could also be self-inflicted, so he couldn't tell the crews to do anything particularly fancy. The platoon is to retreat from the far bridge to just across the near bridge, but between those two points is an open highway; great for the tanks in their current condition, but there would be no way to shake off the enemy.

All he could do was keep the crews informed and gauge the enemy's intent. No need to stress about remote possibilities. The threat lines made it quite obvious what the enemy's plan was, anyways.

"HQ to Charlie. Keep an eye out for shelling from across the river; they've got tanks in elevated places and they're gonna fire erratically." David's fingers stormed around the keyboard. "I'll be marking sites to avoid on your tacmaps."

"Charlie Actual here, acknowledged. As for the tanks in pursuit?"

That was a hard one. The truth was, he couldn't guarantee anything there, just warn. "Two are pursuing you in particular, Actual. Three are after Charlie 4, the healthy one."

"Any plan?"

"I'm marking their routes. Do what you do best."

"Understood. Charlie out."

The trance ended, and David's arms and legs gave out; he slumped forward and his head stopped just inches away from the screen before being jerked back with his body.

"I guess Nell knew what she was doing in sending you." Captain Stoneham let go of David's collar. "Tired?"

"I'm fine." David turned and glared for a second, then returned to marking the locations where the shells from across the river would hit. When the second barrage was all marked, David turned to continue responding, but Stoneham had backed away and was leaning against the wall.

"I won't disturb you any more. Just tell me if you need a break." His fingers fidgeted around his uniform's pocket; David had seen his father do that whenever he didn't have smokes handy.

"Appreciated, Captain." A third barrage marked, then a fourth half a minute later. David didn't have the presence of mind to be surprised by his speed; it was automatic, trancelike. Each time, he got a little better at catching himself when it ended, only to slip back in again before the minute passed.

* * *

**8:53 PM**

Finally; the tanks were out of range of the bombardment, but their pursuers were gaining, and one of the tanks had gone down. David froze; that's right. His thoughts drifted back, and a memory emerged from the muddled heap and replayed itself. The vehicle had wandered into the threat line, just like the others did occasionally, but it was bad timing, and the piercing shell had torn straight through the armor and hit something nasty, possible the ammo stocks. The tank went up in flames instantly. This time, there hadn't been any screams over the transceiver, just swearing from the platoon leader and a query on whether orders had changed.

"No change. Just keep an eye out for updates on enemy movement. HQ out," David had said.

Four more men were dead under his command, and there was no change, nothing new. But there had been casualties at the Spire Hills as well, and [Recheck threat lines, mark new enemy routes. "Be advised, Charlie Actual, the road is blocked about a mile up. I'm marking you a detour." Recheck threat lines, no updates needed.] he hadn't thought about it then, either. Was it because this was more of a rescue mission? That line of thought didn't make any [Recheck threat lines. No updates needed.] sense, so that meant his mind had better shut up already before it got in the way.

_Block out perception of time. Block out doubt, everything else. It won't be good for you if you fail, either, because you still have something to live for. You can still kill the bastard who murdered your brother. _

_So for his sake, focus and succeed._

* * *

**Jefferson Tower**

**9:00 PM**

"General Vance." Nell responded to the call on her console's transceiver. "The enemy is mobilizing?"

"Sure, put it that way!" Perhaps it was her imagination, but the screech in his voice seemed to grow by the day. "It's snowing outside again, and this one isn't from Olaf's CO Power!"

"Hm." That wasn't good news. Nell's luck had held so far; despite the brutal cold around the capital this time of year, snowfall had been at a record low. She would have known if her luck had failed this time, so that meant only one thing.

"Tell Colonel Jackal and Captain Allen to remain on standby for Comnet duties. I will be needed elsewhere tonight."

"Then..." She could tell by his tone that Vance also knew.

"Yes. Olaf will be at the head of his army tonight." Nell walked over to her closet and removed a rather thick winter coat, complete with faux-fur hood. "Very well, General Olaf. Challenge accepted."

* * *

**OF Petrine**

Rank: Major

Affiliation: Blue Moon

Skill: Standard OF-level attack planning, CO-level defense. Particularly skilled in defending on natural terrain.

Power: FORTRESS WALL ******

Enemy attacks are nullified unless another enemy unit aside from the attacker is adjacent to Petrine's unit.

Blue Moon's defense specialist. Lives in the moment rather than "what if" situations.

Hit: Diamond

Miss: Calcite

"Not one step back."


	13. Venture Capital IV: Nell VS Olaf

Well, this is a bit of a surprise. After finishing the previous chapter, I managed to belt this one out in two afternoons, though I don't expect to replicate that feat. The fight between the COs plays fast and loose with the laws of physics, but that's what a strange energy and strange abilities are for, isn't it? I went over it and revised, so I believe it is at least consistent with itself. At the very least, I hope it is quite a spectacle.

* * *

**Venture Capital IV: Nell VS Olaf**

**Jefferson City, Final Defensive Circle**

**December 13, 9:35 PM**

Despite the winter weather, the air within the Jefferson Tower's command room was yet chilled by the building's air conditioning system. Officers around the rotunda sat and typed at their consoles, but the idle chitchat of hours earlier had been replaced by a resolve such that one would be pardoned for wondering if all in the room were dead.

All, of course, except the figures at the room's center. Inside the Break Amplifier sat OF-Colonel Jackal, with Captain Allen pacing around her, a crooked grin adorning his scarred face. His teeth were a display of veiled aggression, yet his eyes shone with childlike excitement rather than malice.

To their sides sat General Carpenter and General Vance, engaged in a lively conversation via their terminals regarding the misfortune of being stuck on defense with their forces commanded by an OF who was not quite the best pick for the job.

And around the tower, weary soldiers mobilized to meet the Blue Moon assault. They had been told that the enemy would arrive from all sides. They had been told they had the advantage in firepower and supplies.

They had not been told that the capital's stocks of weapons and ammunition were reaching their limit. They had not been told that the enemy commander was ideal for the task at hand, while theirs cared little for what sacrifices had to be made in order to secure victory.

For commanding from the HQ Tower at Fort Halberd was CO-Colonel Grit of Blue Moon, basking in the swirl of power emanating in wisps from the fully-charged Break Amplifier.

"A shame you can't feel this, Hadrian." Grit reached up a hand and swirled around the steamlike particles. "It's like a sauna in spring, that's what it is."

Lieutenant Nyberg hadn't heard anything like that before. Most Breakcoms, from what he'd heard, described that energy as a rush of adrenaline or even a pleasurable electrocution.

"This is it, isn't it, Colonel?" The lieutenant was certainly feeling that sense of finality as it bounced around the room – the HQ was abuzz with excitement from the younger officers, caution from the older ones.

"Isn't Grit easier to say, Hadrian?"

Of course, this again. "Isn't Nyberg or Lieutenant easier to say?"

Grit chuckled. "Not really. Now, for your question: only if we win both our battles today. For instance, Nell's out there still."

Grit stared out the window at the whirling snow. "To be honest, I'm also a bit worried the Boss may have mis-estimated her."

The Lieutenant shuddered, remembering the eerie sights from a couple weeks before; those images of orange tanks emerging from artillery barrages unscathed, while Blue Moon soldiers died from nasty wounds, wounds that killed them faster than Emeraldine could heal. One clip wouldn't leave his mind: a sniper's bullet had carved through the hearts and lungs of three soldiers at once, a physical impossibility. The soldiers hadn't even been *that* close to each other.

However, this was CO-General Olaf she had to fight today. "If anyone can beat her, it's our leader."

"Yeah, I guess." Grit didn't seem so convinced. "Well, that's not our worry. Frosty may lose, but I trust him not to die out there. This plan'll work either way."

He leaned back. "These last few days haven't been for nothin'. With each assault, we've inched ever closer to that there stronghold. More important, we've procured some great shooting sites for them rockets. With Nelly in charge, she could hold those walls for a few more days by sendin' our rockets every which way, but since the gal's gone to duel with Frosty..."

The tingling in Nyberg's chest accelerated; that's right, his commander was rarely ever this confident about a plan. If even he was sure, then they really couldn't lose.

The edges of Grit's lips lifted slightly. "Now, don't get ahead o' yourself now, Hadrian. Always a thousand ways to break a perfect plan."

"Right, sir. Sorry." The lieutenant looked at the battle map. Blue Moon's battle lines around the wall were still technically too far away to shell the final wall, even with Grit in command. However, Orange Star's intel was wrong: Grit's CO Power was capable of far more than it had been the last time Orange Star had faced him. In every recent use of his CO Power, Grit had held back, not using to its maximum potential, all in preparation for this moment.

"Sir. Their defenders are staying in place, but they've got a bunch of hardware coming out to meet us."

And that did appear to be the case. There were some infantry groups leaving the safety of the walls, but mostly tanks, even some heavy tanks taking the roads.

"Estimated time to contact, 20 minutes. If we take into account the guerilla forces that are out beyond the wall as well, I think it's safe to say they'll get to us right after we fire." Nyberg thought a moment. "If we have our rockets target their advance forces instead of the walls..."

"Nah, that'll be what they want us to do." Grit shot down that idea immediately. "We've got the artillery trained on 'em anyways. Knowin' Orange Star, they'll fall back after the barrage to figure things out."

"Yes, sir."

Then, the lieutenant heard Grit's voice in his head through the Comnet. 'Hey all, it's Grit. Artillery and rocket crews, first barrage will be timed within fifteen minutes. Signal will come through the Comnet. All else, just keep an eye out 'cause there's some armor coming to greet us.'

* * *

**Fort Halberd**

**9:50 PM**

"Jackal. That's the name of the enemy commander, right?" Grit smiled to himself. "Not your luck today, kid. Time for you to learn what it's like to play in the big leagues."

_CO Power: Snipe Attack._

A ring of light appeared around the antenna atop Fort Halberd's HQ, and then shot outwards. For a brief moment it seemed as if the sun had emerged from behind the stormclouds that covered the land.

And then, Grit was there, with every Blue Moon artillery and rocket operator in the area, guiding their hands and thoughts as they oriented their weapons. After all, firing a weapon is affected by (though not limited to) four major factors. First, the calibration and force of the weapon's blast has to be accounted for. Second, the effect of gravity and the distance to the target has to be factored in. Third, if the targets are in motion, the weapon needs to be aimed at where they will be rather than where they currently are; an inexact science, but patterns are predictable. Finally, external factors such as wind speed and airborne objects (such as the snow and hail that now poured from the sky) need to be adjusted for.

From within the augmented Comnet, Grit could directly observe all of these factors and more, plotting the complex equations using the minds of his soldiers as a neural network. In that same way, once all of the calculations were complete, he could coordinate his rocket crews to fire in a staggered pattern such that each wave of their ordnance would strike the enemy at exactly the same instant.

* * *

**North Jefferson City**

**Parking Lot – Ruined Mega-mall Complex**

**9:54 PM**

During Blue Moon's occupation of the second ring of the city, the Jefferson Center shopping complex had proved to be as successful of a site for guerrilla activity as it had been at attracting customers before the war. After attacks around the area escalated and Blue Moon scout teams were unable to dislodge the insurgents, the entire mall complex was shelled by artillery until everyone inside had surrendered or died.

A few signs of what the mall had used to be remained around the site. At the center was a massive pit full of rubble, where the atrium had been; the remains of the escalators were still visible among the ruins, as well as the remains of support pillars. Despite all the rubble, the central area had not quite been filled in. Perhaps if someone were to dig around the rubble, they would find enough spare clothing and food to kickstart the repairs to the city. Much of the food might still be edible, preserved by the cold of winter, and the underground areas might make for good shelter if the structure was still solid enough.

With this ruin as a backdrop, two APCs – one Blue Moon, one Orange Star – stopped at the edges of the parking lot, each depositing a single passenger before driving off into the blizzard. Each of these titans could take on perhaps an entire company of soldiers and emerge unscathed. The soldiers went off to their battle, leaving the two monsters to fight on the level that only monsters could.

The two figures stood and stared at each other, shuddering in excitement. The sounds of explosions filled the air; it seemed the battle had started nearby. Nobody else dared approach the mall area, though. It was one on one, winner takes all.

Olaf smiled, and ran his hand through his beard, wiping away the frost that coated it. "I've been waiting for this moment, Nell."

Nell's eyes glowed as she approached, her figure tense and robotic. "At least you had enough courtesy to come at all."

"What do you mean?" Olaf laughed. "I'm actually surprised that *you* came. After all, it was only five years ago that I told you we'd meet again, yet you didn't go after me when the dust settled.."

"If that's what you expected, then you never did understand me." Nell took a few more steps forward, then stopped. The two combatants were now just 10 meters away from each other. "However, I knew that you would get tired of waiting eventually."

"Now that I have, what do you think?" Her adversary's grin widened. "It's your turn this time, Nell. What is it like to watch your country eaten by its hungry neighbor?"

Nell did not move or change her expression. "Talking like you've already won?"

Olaf reached into his coat and pulled out a weapon: a custom-modified Blue Moon RPK light machine gun; an accurate weapon with an almost bottomless clip. "Don't be like that, Nell. I just want to have my say before I kill you, that's all."

"Then let me have my say." Nell reached her hand down to the gun belt under her coat; one machine pistol, one revolver, both optimized to penetrate a B-Field. Olaf would no doubt be the one to make the first move.

She continued talking as she walked, circling toward the wreckage of an SUV for cover. "It was 26 years we had control of Blue Moon, both here and on the mainland. We let you retain control of your local and regional governments, your defense forces, and your way of life. All we wanted was your allegiance against the other nations."

Her enemy's eyes flared. "Spin it any way you want, Nell. You didn't have to grow up in a nation whose pride was stomped on with every slimy word from your 'benevolent' northern neighbor."

"How long were you planning it?" Nell stopped just short of the van's husk. "Did you incite the rebellion? If not, who did?"

"Once again, you show your ignorance!" Olaf roared. "Incite a rebellion? You talk as though we weren't all planning it in the first place!"

He took a step forward; Nell tensed, ready to move. "Why did you think our defiant stares gave way to honeyed words and cooperation? Were you arrogant enough to believe that the entire nation had accepted you as our puppeteer? Did you really believe we would face the death of our souls with dances, not bullets?"

Another step, then another. "Do you know what it was like working within your government, smiling and saluting and acting perfectly loyal, to the point where even that psychopath Foster didn't suspect me? And then, when I finally reached the position of General, I had to hold myself back, waiting for precisely the right moment?"

Nell dived on instinct, ducking behind the frame of the wrecked SUV. A moment later, a stream of bullets tore through the frame, prompting her to drop to the snowy ground below.

"But it all paid off, Nell. It paid off five years ago, when Black Hole's timely assistance stopped you from interfering with our nationhood any longer. And it's paid off again now, as the entirety of your Cosmo Land colony is almost under my control."

Nell's senses sounded another alarm, and she pushed off the ground with Break energy, dashing behind another ruined car just before a three-meter-tall wave of snow and ice crashed down on what remained of the SUV's frame at her previous position. As she stood up, she saw Olaf, standing still out in the open, a whirlwind of snow and ice as a barrier around him, and perhaps the most maniacal expression she had ever seen was painted across his face. Another ghastly laugh emerged from his lips.

"You know what, Nell? With Max out of the action, you're the only one from our old group left to oppose me. Once I sweep you out of the way, I won't even have to rush at conquering your mainland."

Despite the open ending, Nell knew that the old bastard's monologue was over. Time to take this seriously. Her pulse raced; due to her "lucky field," it was unlikely he'd be able to shoot her. However, her luck abilities didn't allow her to convert Break energy into matter like Olaf could with ice.

Another hail of bullets ripped across the parking lot; Nell heard the whooshing of air and dropped to the ground, and the sounds of bullets rang out around her, thudding into the snow.

Then, the ground was suddenly away from her feet, and she was buffeted around by wind and ice, picked up by a kind of whirlwind a meter across. As the mini-tornado spun her world around, Olaf roared, and another mass of snow and ice appeared around him, drove forward to pick up scraps of metal from a wreck, then went rocketing upwards into the whirlwind. Nell twisted around, lucky enough to dodge the jagged scraps, but the force of the gravity-defying snowdrift knocked her off the top of the whirlwind and sprawling back to the pavement. A hard impact rocked her body, even through her B-field; the snow on the ground had hardened into ice. The temperature was dropping; Olaf's very presence was lowering the temperature, an ability he'd dubbed "Deep Freeze."

Her ears rang, but her body was calm. Olaf was still fighting the same way as before. Both her and him were extremely quick at transforming the Break Energy around them, and thanks to the bloodshed of the battle for the capital, they'd both have plenty of it to spare.

"Are you trying to insult me?" Olaf spat. "Fight back, Nell. Or have you lost so much hope that all you can do is make this kill unsatisfying?"

She couldn't help it anymore; a slight giggle escaped her lips. As she pulled herself up, Olaf's RPK rang out again. Nell mentally stroked the air around her, and the bullets danced away, splattering against the ice to the sides of her as she stood again, machine pistol in her left hand, revolver in her right.

Olaf's eyes widened. "I understand now. You actually think the greater battle is yours if I'm not there, don't you?"

"Don't misunderstand, General. I'm not that delusional. I knew that if you were moving now, then the battle for the capital was yours to win regardless."

"What?" Olaf's shook his head dismissively, teeth gritted.

"I'm just here..." Nell kicked off the ground, the gap between her and Olaf closing in a split second.

"...to make sure you won't be alive to see it fall into Blue Moon hands." Her body was instantly caught in Olaf's whirlwind shield, but she knew that none of the sharp shards within it would strike her. As she spun in the wind, lifted up and over him, watching his face go from arrogance to shock, she took in that exquisite expression as both of her fingers came down on her pistols' triggers.

* * *

**9:58 PM**

One wave of rockets and shells every twenty seconds. Twenty waves total. Seven minutes and it was over; the power permeating the air disappeared, and the Blue Moon indirect crews took to restocking and reloading. Grit's CO Power was short-lived, after all; however, none inside the Jefferson Tower could deny its power and effectiveness.

Six large breaches in the final wall. An entire fifth of the wall's defenders wiped out in one barrage. A tenth of the advancing force destroyed or scattered by artillery fire.

Captain Allen heard a screech from the side; there was the expected overreaction from General Vance, though a little later than he'd expected. "Allen, you idiot! What is the meaning of this?"

"About to ask ya the same damn thing, Payton." Allen whirled around flamboyantly and rested his arm on the side of the Amplifier's chair. "You told me that we were still outside even that Grit bastard's rocket range. What gives?"

"I... Miriam! What... what..." Vance clutched at the air.

"It seems we were mistaken." Carpenter's shoulders slumped. "The point of their push wasn't to advance their rockets into firing range. The enemy CO... Grit..."

"Grit." Vance's growl was that of a man hunting his mortal enemy. "He wasn't supposed to be able to fire this far away, and still..."

"What, extending his rockets' range by over half, and coordinating all their strikes with pinpoint accuracy?" Allen laughed. "Sounds like a regular CO Power to me."

"What the devil is so funny, Captain?" Vance boomed. "If you don't have a good excuse, then shut up and do your job!"

"No, no, General. I just like to look on the bright side of life. Especially..." A smirk came to Allen's face. "Knowing that the big bad wolf is the guy on the other end. Heh heh heh..."

"Allen. What is the meaning of this?" Carpenter's voice was soft, but threatening.

"Means y'all give up too easy. If he's releasing power all crazy-like, do you think he'll be able to concentrate well when he's not?"

Allen spun a second time, arms raised in front, hands pointed inwards. "And he failed to stop our charge. The big guns will have to take some time and reload, after all. That means we'll get to toe it with the Moonies' paper dolls and plastic tanks."

Carpenter raised her gaze, a wary look on her face. "You intend to press the attack even now? That's..."

"Tactical sense, ma'am." Allen continued pacing in a circle around the Amplifier; after all, Jackal was fine on her own right now. Things weren't crazy enough to require his aid. Besides, all the officers around the room were turning to watch the show, and he couldn't disappoint them, now could he?

"And how many will die?" Vance slammed his hands on his console as he stood. "I'm ordering you to pull back, Captain!"

"Then what, _sir_? Wait at the walls? Wait for 'em to do it again?" Allen's face stretched, going from smirk to shadowy grin. "With all due respect, sir, that's asking for it. Might as well wrap our civvies in gift paper and send 'em on over to that Evil Santa's workshop."

Vance stared around the room, burning his gaze into each of the support officers that had turned to listen. "Who told you jokers it was break time? Order the troops to pull back!"

"Uh, slight problem there, Gen'ral." Allen shook his pointer finger, _ah-ah_. "My little Jackie won't let them listen to windbags like you. If you send the order out, she might get angry."

'Ground elements tearing into enemy front line. Bombing has begun.' That balladlike voice rang out over the Comnet, a voice meant only for him. Yes, Captain Ellis Allen was the one holding this lovely monster's leash, not those frightened lard buckets in front of him.

"See? Advance elements have already made contact, so isn't it late to complain? You'll know in just an hour, Gen'ral; there's no contest between my Jackal and their wounded wolf."

"_Your_ Jackal?" Carpenter's glare had little effect on Allen. He could feel the crackling from the Comnet already.

"Problem, Gen'rals?"

"I should have thrown you two out of Orange Star when I had the chance," Carpenter whispered. "Gambling with the lives of our soldiers like this..."

"And then y'all wouldn't have Jackie to shield your asses, and you'd already be fly food," declared Allen, waving away her words. "You know why she doesn't listen to anyone but me? Well, you people could never understand that. Or what, would you have made her a lab rat, tried to turn her into some sorta drugged-up monstrosity conditioned to obey whoever?"

Allen clucked his tongue. "Now how is that humane?"

"She's already a monstrosity." Carpenter advanced towards the pacing Captain. "You two are putting real lives in danger. This isn't a game, Allen. You're relieved of command."

"Very well, General." Allen smirked. "So try taking me away from her. See how she reacts to that."

"You're holding the entire capital hostage and disobeying a direct order from a superior officer!" Vance had finally found his voice again. "I'll have you executed for treason!"

"Trying so hard to reassert control, General?" The climax had come; now to say something cool to finish them off.

"This world belongs to the Breakcoms now, sir. We all are just livin' in it."

* * *

**North Jefferson City**

**Parking Lot – Ruined Mega-mall Complex**

**9:59 PM**

Olaf projected a layer of ice, shaped around him like an igloo, just as Nell's first bullets arrived. The bullets broke through before a second was up, but that was enough time for Olaf to dive out of harm's way, though Nell saw a few scraps of metal in the whirlwind he dived through bounce off his B-field.

As Nell fell from the dying wind, she saw Olaf sliding away on the ice, RPK at the ready, and another three-meter-tall pulse of snow and scrap metal already speeding towards her, this time wider than before. Nell landed in a handstand, then angled to the side and pushed off the ice aided by Break energy, propelled to the side just far enough to avoid the snow.

Just in time, because in that instant, another wave of bullets sped towards her from Olaf's gun. Nell fell onto the ice, no longer able to keep her balance, and rolled away from the bullets; a couple grazed her coat. So they *were* designed to break through B-fields after all.

Rolled, not slid; the ice was more solid than before. She'd thought it was still wet if Olaf had been sliding across it, but Olaf had probably aided that slide earlier with Break energy. By her estimate, the air's temperature had dropped at least 10 degrees in Celsius since the start of the fight, and she was starting to feel it through her coat, despite the adrenaline. If things went on too much longer, it could be a problem.

The ground rumbled, and Nell felt the catalysis of a tremendous amount of Break energy from the air.

"I just can't shoot you, can I, Nell? That's fine!" Olaf's figure was only faintly visible; he'd backed up across the parking lot, and now stood atop a mass of churning snow and ice four meters tall and wide enough to engulf a quarter of the parking lot. It was moving slow now, but was picking up speed quickly, accelerated by Olaf's powers. She estimated it would reach her in five seconds. No way to dodge to the side, even with a Breakdash.

Nell stood her ground, and sent a pulse of Break energy into her guns. Then, she fired both at the approaching figure of her enemy. Olaf rose a barrier of ice in front of himself, but luckily, the revolver's bullet struck at the correct angle, and not only went through the ice, but slammed into the side of her enemy's thigh, spraying the top of the oncoming snow pink. As he fell, Nell thought she saw something fall from his right hand – then, she noticed his RPK was not in his hand anymore.

One second until impact. Nell prepared Break under her feet and propelled herself ten meters into the air, jumping above the avalanche and firing down towards Olaf once again. This time, he swung upwards with his arm and all of the bullets... were blocked by something almost invisible.

Three bullets left in her revolver. Machine pistol almost empty. Nell holstered it and grabbed another object inside her coat with her left hand.

As Nell fell towards her enemy, she saw that Olaf stood on a sheet of ice that rode atop the avalanche, which was still accelerating despite the fairly level terrain, normal laws of physics be damned. The sheet was wide enough for two people, so she had to land on it and somehow displace him; even with her luck, it would be a problem to fall into that avalanche. But how had he blocked her bullets?

Oh, that's it. Grasped in Olaf's two hands was a broad-headed, long-handled battle axe made of crystalline ice.

* * *

**10:02 PM**

"Direct contact with enemy forces," reported Lieutenant Nyberg. "Colonel..."

"Grit," the lanky man directed.

"_Colonel_ Grit. My assessment of the strategic situation is as follows. They're attacking us unevenly – probing to find weak points. This must be the commander who was in charge of Orange Star's guerilla operations."

"Hm. Such a slow method ain't so good for fighting 'gainst me," Grit observed. "Since this ain't a Dark Spot, I can snipe 'em whenever the artillery are reloaded."

"The enemy's aircraft may be a problem, though." Lieutenant Nyberg was starting to get a little worried. "How the devil do they have so many bombers left after all this fighting?"

"Frosty's snow ain't helpin us so much on that front." Nyberg had to agree with Grit's assessment this time; General Olaf had brought along more anti-air groups than missile launchers, so Orange Star's bombers were evenly matched against the anti-air. In this blizzard, the Fort Halberd airbase was too far from the front lines, so their air support was limited to the few copters already in the air.

"I thought you said their morale would crumble after seeing the walls go down..." Nyberg muttered.

"Guess I was wrong this time," Grit said. "The Bowlies have just as much heart when it comes to defending their homeland, it seems."

Grit paused. "Though it really is a little peculiar that they sent troops right out into the artillery's jaws. Nell wouldn't stand for that if she was there."

"Why not? That's how we'd do it, isn't it?"

"Not how I'd do it, though you're right; if this was our capital, Frosty wouldn't have to ask too hard." Grit looked up at the machinery above him. "Maybe they know how we're stretchin' ourselves thin right now."

"What do you mean?" That was the first Lieutenant Nyberg had heard of that.

"They've got guerrillas all over the dang country. Been makin' some of our regional officers look like fools. And now Frosty gets 'head of himself and starts the war on the mainland too?" Grit shook his head. "Don't bode well."

"But this battle's still ours, right?"

"The battle's still ours, but we have to make sure they don't make it too bloody for us. After all, we've got the after-stuff to think of, too. The Bowlies still have Falcon Island and half of Alara, and from what I hear, Falcon Island still has half their Cosmo navy and tons o' planes."

Nyberg looked back at the strategic overview. "So we hold here and wait for them to die?"

"Kinda. Gotta make sure the rockets stay safe, though. I'll be countin' on you to warn me if somethin' happens with that."

_Counting on me_. He hadn't known how much he'd been waiting for those words until now. "Yes, Colonel."

"Colonel _Grit_," came the drawled response.

* * *

**10:03 PM**

Nell landed on the very edge of the ice platform, then dived forwards to evade Olaf's strike. His eyes were on her revolver; good. As the crystal axe sliced the air where she had been, Nell pulled her left hand from her coat, now grasping a seven-inch combat knife, and struck at her enemy's side, slicing through his coat and B-field into his flesh.

Olaf roared and kicked at her with his wounded leg, the pain numbed by the cold and the outflowing blood blocked by a layer of ice. A knife of ice was on the tip of his boot; through her luck, the ice sheet tilted, sending her stumbling a couple steps out of the way and leaving Olaf staggering to the side.

Nell stepped forward and aimed her revolver. This time, Olaf reached out under the gun with the long handle of his axe, then jerked the handle upwards as she fired, sending her shot awry. Nell managed to hold onto the gun, but fell a couple steps back. She felt nothing beneath, and corrected her weight balance just in time; she was right at the edge of the ice sheet.

An alarm sounded in her mind, and she stepped forward; the edge of the ice sheet crumbled behind her. Olaf was swinging the axe again, and she dodged away from it; however, this time his strike followed through into the ice sheet, cutting the piece of the platform that she stood on away from the main sheet.

Without Olaf's power running through it, her piece of the platform would fall into the avalanche. Nell fired off her revolver at Olaf, but didn't wait to see the results. A glance around told her everything she needed to know; the avalanche was slowing down, but not enough that it would be safe to dive into. Parts of the ice were hardening, but still consisted of smaller, sharper chunks submerged in a powdery wave of snow, and there were the metal scraps to think of as well; many wrecked cars had been sucked in by the wave. If she fell in, it was likely she'd fall through and be slashed up by the shards.

Its path had taken them towards the wrecked mall, which was now less than half a kilometer away. They would both go tumbling into the mall's central pit if they didn't get off the traveling mass within a minute.

This was bad, but she was out of options. She had to get onto Olaf's platform and knock her enemy off it. Nell focused the Break energy into the best omen she could; this would take a lot of luck to work.

She jumped off the ice platform towards Olaf's foothold, firing her revolver's last bullet as she went. The bullet struck Olaf in the side, like the last one had, but he barely even seemed to notice, even using the momentum from the shot's impact to speed up his swing of the axe, timed to cut her in half once she reached his platform. Nell twisted in midair to avoid it, while throwing her knife towards Olaf's hand.

And then she was knocked backwards, and felt a sharp pain cut through her belly and side. She gasped for breath, and that intake brought with it a second wave of pain from her left ribcage. She fell, her back smacking into a solid surface.

Stand. She had to stand. This couldn't be happening. What was going on? How had she been cut?

Nothing foreign seemed to be in her wound despite its size, so she focused Break on it, stopping the bleeding, closing it tight, and blocking off the pain. She rolled to her front, then pulled herself up to her knees.

Still hurt to breathe.

The avalanche had hardened into an iceberg, though it was still sliding; that must mean Olaf had lost the ice sheet he had been riding. Scraps of metal stuck out at various places, so her luck must have made sure that she hadn't fallen on one of those.

To the left, she saw Olaf's battleaxe, and understood; he had thrown it at her, almost point-blank. Luck couldn't save her from that, but it did make sure it cut her side and not right down the center of her ribcage. A heart wound would be hard for even a Breakcom to survive.

Ahead, she saw Olaf on the ground, struggling to stand. Due to the throw, her knife had missed Olaf's hand, but had hit an even better target; his already-wounded thigh. Her foe had lost balance, fallen off the ice sheet or broken it apart, and reacted on instinct as he hit the ice to prevent himself from being cut up.

Olaf had to be reaching his limit, with multiple wounds and the amount of power he'd used throughout the fight. She had to press the advantage now, despite her wound, but she wasn't sure she could do much at close range in her current state. Too much motion could rip that wound open again, and she couldn't afford to reapply the Break patch in the middle of the fight.

There was her revolver less than a meter away, to her right. However, it was out of bullets.

She grabbed the revolver, released the cylinder catch, and pushed out the cylinder, exposing the spent rounds. Olaf was still struggling to stand. Hold revolver vertical, push down ejector rod to unload the casings. Olaf glared up at her, and fired a wave of air and ice over a meter high from his palm.

The wave picked up a few scraps and smacked into Nell's face and body, but her grip on the gun didn't let up. A pain wracked her left arm; a shard of metal had sliced up the arm, leaving a scratch that she didn't bother looking at. As if that was going to stop her.

Squeezing the wound with Break, she moved the gun to her left hand, held it downwards, and removed a speedloader from her coat. The pain was nothing. She placed it over the revolver, turned the knob, and watched the rounds slide in. Really, the pain was nothing.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Olaf reaching out, an expression of pure rage and hatred across his face. Another wave of ice and steel smashed into her, but this time, nothing stuck.

Close the cylinder.

A chunk of ice the size of an ostrich hit the ice nearby her; another smashed into her face, knocking her back a little and bruising her even through her fading B-field. Tens, perhaps hundreds more were coming towards her. The world seemed to spin around her. All of it was irrelevant. All that mattered was the bastard that was slowly coming into her sights as her revolver arm rose.

"NELLLLLLLLLLLLLL!" Her enemy's scream of rage didn't even contain despair. How disappointing.

She knew she would hit. Nell waited for a flying chunk of ice to pass...

...and then, her finger squeezed the trigger. Without stopping to see what damage she did, she realigned her sights with Olaf's flopping body and fired again. And again. And again.

Before she could empty the last two shots into her enemy, the ground fell away and she tumbled into the dark abyss, giant chunks of ice and steel falling after her.

* * *

"Well, what do you know. The duel's finished." Grit's words turned the heads of every officer in the room, causing them to stare at one particular satellite's feed on their consoles – a satellite whose camera target had not changed since the battle began.

"I don't see either of them..." Nyberg muttered. All that the feed showed was a giant mass of snow and ice sliding down the parking lot, its foremost chunks breaking off and falling into the pit formed by the mall rotunda.

"Both of 'em were on the front of that thing when it went down," Grit explained. "Neither looked well. I reckon we ought to seize that site so we can get Frosty out safely."

"Thanks to the Bowlheads' advance..." Nyberg muttered. "That area's within their control zone."

"Sounds like we have to change that." Through the Comnet, Nyberg heard new orders given to the soldiers near that site. It seemed like a new hotspot had opened up in the battle for Jefferson City.


	14. Venture Capital V: Desperado

Author's Note:

Whoops, it's been over 2 months again. Summer classes got in the way a lot, and I've been writing some original fiction over the summer. And now I'm in graduate school, but I plan to keep writing as long as I can, even after I get a job. I'm having a blast writing fanfiction and original fiction, even if my original fiction attempts aren't really worthy of publishing yet and probably won't be for a while.

It'll be a while for the next update too, though. First off, XCOM: Enemy Unknown is coming out on PC and consoles in just over a week! I anticipate it'll be gobbling up tons of my time over the next few months.

For those who have never heard of it, it's a turn-based strategy game about defending the Earth from an alien invasion. Imagine a Sci-fi Fire Emblem, and that kind of gets close. Lots of differences: for instance, soldiers don't have any pre-defined personalities, and there's an entire base management/UFO interception side to it that's not in Fire Emblem (and of course, fantasy setting VS sci-fi). However, they do share this element: if your soldiers die, they're dead for good (or until you reload if you're terrible like me). And soldiers die easily. The original X-Com, released all the way back in 1994, was a tense, atmospheric ride, and I have high hopes for the new one as well. I highly recommend anyone who's a fan of strategy games to check it out (though if you were raised on PC squad-tactics games, do be aware that many of the game mechanics have been streamlined in the new one. From the footage and the demo, I do heartily believe the new one captures the same nail-biting tension of the original, but YMMV.)

...well, I also have an idea for a fun crossover between Advance Wars and the original 1994 X-Com: UFO Defense, with some non-spoiler elements of the new one. It'll start as a one-shot, but I might continue if it seems fun. I might get that out soon if I have time between classes.**  
**

* * *

**Venture Capital V: Desperado**

**Jefferson Tower**

**December 13, 10:09 PM**

Gunfire and explosions rocked back and forth throughout the ruined city, all illuminated on the satellite monitors in the Jefferson Tower. The data looked quite clear to the support officers staffing the command room: the battle was already lost, no matter what they did.

"Alright. All satellite access controls have been transferred to the Falcon Island HQ." General Bernstein, though not in the same predicament as the two generals he spoke to, nonetheless resembled them in terms of fatigue.

"Excellent. How much longer until the databases have been fully transferred?" asked General Vance.

"Worst case, it will be four more hours."

"That's fine. Should be long enough." General Carpenter stepped away from the camera at the console. "I'm going to try and reason with this bastard."

"Don't waste your energy on him," said General Bernstein. "Concentrate on the evacuation."

"What's the use?" General Vance snapped. "We don't have the time or hardware to evac all of the civilians! We can't take several trips because there's nowhere for them to evacuate to! Hell, Blue Moon controls the skies around the city, not to mention the entire upper half of the continent!"

"Then take a survey of who wants to stay and go, and run a lottery for those who wish to risk it." Bernstein scratched behind his neck. "Do you understand what would happen if we did not even try?"

"We'd be no more screwed than we are right now!" Vance blinked away angry tears. "Bernstein, Nell is off base, Jackal has gone rogue, and Max has proven himself too stupid to live! And don't even get me started on the mainland! Do you see where our Breakcom obsession has brought us to?"

"What was that about the mainland, Payton?" A cold voice cut over the transceiver, as the console displayed "Incoming Connection."

"Ah, General Foster." Bernstein was the only one pleased to see her.

The new face that appeared on the screen was a dark-haired woman with an unwrinkled face, though the signs of cosmetic surgery, makeup, and hair coloring were obvious; there was a unnatural quality to her face such that the average person likely wouldn't call her beautiful. Her uniform was standard, surprisingly lacking the stripes and medals that adorned the other three Generals, though she insisted on wearing an officer's hat where the other three did not.

"The mainland is not your concern right now, General Vance." Her words were careful and measured. "And might I say that I agree with Captain Allen's decisive course of action. While his methods are questionable, he is in the right this time."

"Bullshit!" screamed Vance. Carpenter grabbed him by the arm.

"Payton, calm. And Clara, we're not here to discuss _that_."

"Very well, then." General Foster smiled. "In regard to the evacuation, I agree with Bernstein's plan. Let each individual decide for themselves if the risk of flying through Blue Moon airspace is worth taking. A little brutal honesty tends to thin out the herd."

"And if the herd try to stampede?" Vance was indignant.

Foster's eyes narrowed. "Now, General. It may be the politician's job to come up with sweet patriotic lies for the people, but when they fail, isn't a General the second best for the job?"

Vance's argument was lost under General Carpenter's shout. "Allen! What the hell are you doing now? Stop pulling people off the walls, for god's sake!"

"Now, why didn't any of you guys tell me that General Foster was on the line?" The Captain swaggered up to the Generals' impromptu conference. "As for what I'm doing, didn't any of you see Nell go down in that fight?"

The room went silent in an instant. Allen stared at each of his superiors in turn, then laughed once. "Her and the bearded bastard both slid down into that there pit. Well, I'm sending down over some boys to look about retrievin' her all gentle-like. If we play it all right, we might be able to get 'er back _and_ send the snowman to hell."

"Good to see you take initiative, Allen." Foster's gaze met his, neither of them yielding. "However, I would expect a little more deference to authority from a Captain."

"I apologize, General Foster." Allen gave a mocking bow, against which Foster only continued to glower. "However, time was of the essence."

"I suppose ignorance of the chain of command doesn't matter if one is a military genius... but then again, who in this room doesn't believe themselves to be one?" The tone of those words was such that even Allen's skin began to shimmer with a hint of sweat.

"The plan was developed upon consultation with Jackal herself, General. I do believe that if any can make a claim to military genius, then it would be a Breakcom, yes? As such-"

"Very well." Foster's sharp words reasserted control. Allen stopped himself from flinching just in time, but there was no question who had won that exchange. "But take care not to pull something like this when I'm around."

"I would defer to your judgment, General." Allen stepped back to the Break Amplifier. "And if you wish for a battle update through the Comnet, I must say things are looking up; our enemy's front line wasn't prepared to deal with an attack like this."

* * *

**Eugenia Province**

**Newport Base HQ Tower**

**10:20 PM**

CO-Major Sami hated the Break Amplifier. It was far too restrictive; she'd rather be up and about, stretching her legs. It helped her think better when she wasn't stuck in one position, because across all the branches of her Comnet, there were thousands of soldiers who were very active, either mentally or physically, even those not directly in the action.

It would take a fool to say that the battle for Eugenia was going "well." Vladi was perhaps the worst OF for her to match against from a distance like this – enhanced hearing was a nightmare for special forces to deal with. Despite that, Sami's division had managed to retake Orange Star's coastal base, which opened the possibility of a counterattack against Blue Moon's navy, though the pattern of Dark Spots shifting around the oceans made it difficult to predict where they would be or even how large Blue Moon's naval forces even were.

And now, one of her least favorite people was here.

"Flora Steele." Sami didn't bother to turn her head. "Come in."

Steele sighed. "Colonel Sami. It's been a while."

"I don't know what they were thinking when they sent you back to me." Sami wasn't in the mood to mince words. "Or did they actually consider that op a success?"

"Our opponent seemed to think so."

Sami rolled her eyes. "Who knows. The last five years haven't mellowed either of us, from the looks of it."

Steele nodded. "On the contrary, you look sharp now. My doubts about you from back then don't seem to hold as strongly anymore."

"Wait until we actually battle before you say that." Sami shut her eyes for a moment, giving some new orders over the Comnet. "You might take it back."

Steele let that pass. "So, SITREP?"

"Here or elsewhere?"

"I was told we weren't supposed to know about elsewhere."

Sami finally turned and glared. "That's a dangerous mindset."

"So is the opposite." Steele stared back, eyes hard.

_Fine, be that way._ _You haven't changed a bit._ "Our task is to hold the coastline and prevent Blue Moon from reinforcing by sea. Of course, we're to do this with just the troops we have here. We've got automated factories in case we need vehicles and weapons, but we're not getting any reinforcements in terms of manpower or resources."

Steele stared down; Sami noticed that she was still carrying large thermos around, likely still filled with the woman's favorite caffeinated sludge. As expected, Steele took a sip before she spoke.

"In short, Command has no plan."

Sami really wanted to argue with that, but... "Nell's trusting me to do more than just hold them off. We're supposed to put pressure on Blue Moon and make sure they have to worry about losing ground here."

"What do we have to work with?" Steele asked.

"My division at half strength, one national guard battalion, three groups of half-trained militia each numbering about a thousand, and the remnants of our Cosmo Land navy."

"Supplies?"

"Sufficient living supplies to support a force even of our size, but just a trickle of munitions. Hardly enough to support more than a day of attack at a time, with a two-day break in between."

Steele sighed. "So we're just supposed to stand around and look kind of threatening."

"I'd like to do more than that if possible." Sami brought up a satellite map on her screen. "This is where we have to attack."

Steele glanced over. "National Highway 37."

"There's a chokepoint in Blue Moon's supply lines at the small city of Grenada. East of the city there's a river with only two crossing points for miles. To the north, mountains. To the south, a thick forest. Two HQ Towers, in the southwest and northeast of the area of interest"

"If we take the southwest HQ, we'll cut off a good portion of the enemy's external supplies in the province." Steele nodded.

"I have special forces scouting the area, but unless they've got three times what I'm expecting over there, that's the place we have to attack." Sami turned to Steele. "Not much like our last mission, huh?"

"Anything's better than fighting Kanbei again." Steele headed back towards the door. "I'm going to get settled. I'll be back in five for a more in-depth discussion of the situation."

Sami heard Steele's footsteps stop before she reached the elevator door. "Although I think Nell made the right choice in assigning us together. Sergeant Levins can handle Max much better than I can."

"Nell's assigning a Sergeant to be Max's advisor?" That was more of a Sami idea than a Nell one.

"Gets worse. OF Andy's getting a kid who's only seen combat once."

Sami hissed. "It really is that bad, isn't it?"

The elevator beeped, and Sami heard Steele step inside. "The kid's a Projector, so he'll do well... in theory."

"Trained him for a while?"

"Trained him for a little while. He's got promise, but also some major issues, that kid."

Sami couldn't think of anything to say to that before the elevator doors closed. While she and Steele had their differences, she had to admit that she'd learned a lot during their battle five years ago. Steele had a knack for measuring a soldier, and it sounded like the OF's new advisor didn't quite measure up.

She hoped Nell was on to something. If not, that would mean they'd lose yet another OF, which could spell the end of the war for Orange Star.

The battle itself was more of a slog than Sami was used to. Most of her operations were based around small teams of special forces units, usually backed up by artillery and aircraft. In contrast, her job here was to coordinate large units with varying levels of training, and there was far more armor under her command than she would have liked. It was hard getting into the right mindset to take advantage of it, but against Vladi it was perhaps fortunate that she had that kind of force composition.

Well, there was one thing in her favor: she was at least as experienced in night attacks as Vladi was. If he assumed he could beat her at what she did best, then that would be his fatal mistake.

* * *

**Fort Halberd**

**10:35 PM**

For the first time in a while, Lieutenant Hadrian Nyberg noticed CO-Colonel Grit dripping with sweat. Nyberg was sweating, too – the clean battle lines visible from the satellite abstraction were a lie. In the inner ring of the city, soldiers fought in the ruined buildings, tanks pulled back and forth in the streets, and Orange Star aircraft periodically flew overhead, dropping bombs on the Blue Moon lines.

Blue Moon's forces had beaten Orange Star to the mall area where Olaf and Nell had fought, and Orange Star had responded with artillery, shelling the area and making a search-and-rescue more difficult for them, even though the strategy would lose out to Grit's range advantage in the long-term. Neither CO had yet emerged from the rubble. Orange Star had armor on the way, ETA thirty minutes, and some special forces with mortars and precision rifles already near the site, and their aircraft were still a problem.

OF-Colonel Sasha was in command of the retrieval team, directing them from the HQ outside the capital.

"Been a while since I talked to that gal," Grit mused. Nyberg couldn't believe he still had the mind for chit-chat even in a situation like this.

"Really, Hadrian? I prefer not to focus too hard on the battle. Gives you tunnel vision, see." Nyberg had some difficulty believing that statement. To him, it was obvious that Grit was focused, ridiculously so.

He tried voicing it. When Grit responded, his tone had none of its usual playfulness.

"If you say so, Hadrian."

Something in those words stung the Lieutenant, so he returned to staring at the satellite maps and listening to the Comnet, neither of which could summarize the chaotic battle particularly well. Grit had even stopped sending him summaries.

* * *

**North Jefferson City – Ruined Mega-mall Complex**

**Sasha's Division – 97th Mechanized Battalion, A Company, 1st Platoon**

**10:38 PM**

The reassuring tones of Colonel Sasha's Comnet helped calm Lieutenant Nemorov's nerves before the battle. He was glad to be arriving by APC; helicopters had never his favorite mode of transportation. That feeling had only grown after his first "death," suffered in the confines of one of those flying coffins; the crash had been the result of mechanical failure, and enemy contact hadn't even been involved. Nemorov had been revived with Emeraldine back then, but not everyone in the copter had been so lucky; a crushed head could rarely be fixed even with such a miracle cure.

They'd be out and on site within a minute. His platoon knew their mission: deploy at the mall area, fortify positions, and launch countersniping and counter-mortar operations against any Orange Star agents in the vicinity. Skliarenko's Spetsnaz would arrive later to back them up, and he had artillery and armor support on the way. A friendly engineer platoon was already on-site, but Orange Star's bombardment had suppressed them in the parking lot.

'Alright, you're here.' The APC's doors opened in sync with Sasha's declaration through the Comnet. As Nemorov and his squad departed from the vehicle, images flashed into his mind:

Orange Star soldiers hidden in the bottom floors of a wrecked skyscraper, a few blocks south, with sniper equipment. At least dedicated five sniper teams in the east and west, about 700 meters away, with IR obfuscation equipment that hid their exact locations from the satellites' thermal imaging. To the east, a larger concentration of Orange Star infantry; two platoons strong, with mortar equipment.

And armor from both sides on the way within half an hour. This would become a bloodbath for both sides if the Bowlheads pushed their luck.

'Second squad, fortify positions south of the pit. Third, west. Fourth, east. First squad, come with me to the north parking garage. Once settled in, all squads begin counter-sniping as directed.'

As Nemorov ran, he looked over at the main parking lot. Scraps of cars were strewn everywhere, mixed with snowdrifts that didn't look natural. The path that the glacier had taken across the lot was scraped clean of anything but snow; closer towards the pit, some of the concrete had actually been stripped away. A few explosions sounded in the distance, reminding Nemorov of the situation's urgency.

The parking garage wasn't what Nemorov considered an ideal vantage point for the current situation, but it was shelter enough for a temporary command post, and would provide a good location for RPG strikes against Orange Star's armor if they made it too close to the sunken rotunda.

'Epsilon. Status?'

'Lots of noise around here.' Nemorov paused. 'We're safely at site Alpha. Counter-sniping initiated.'

'Good. I'll keep in touch.'

Nemorov stared out through his motion-tracking binoculars, watching for any changes on the ground. Despite Olaf's supposed incapacitation, the snow was starting to pick up. In the long run, that would be good for their defense, but right now, it just made their jobs harder. The binoculars' inbuilt systems were good at picking up movement, but all the snow flying around led to tons of false positives dancing across his view.

Minutes passed. The only member of 1st squad experienced with sniper rifles was the squad leader, Galya Dorogaia, so Nemorov's Sergeant Vdovin was in command. The squad began to assemble sandbags and other fortifications in the garage, while Nemorov looked out to make sure the Bowlhead snipers weren't aiming their way. Nothing particularly relevant to their situation came in through the Comnet, and after about fifteen minutes, Nemorov found himself getting strangely worried.

'Colonel Sasha. Enemy movements?'

'They're hanging back. It's unusual, especially considering their actions at the front line... ah.'

Nemorov realized it as Sasha did. 'They know they can't dislodge us. They've merely moved rockets and missiles, with an escort, into position so that we can't get Olaf out safely anytime soon.'

'And Nell is left alone...' Sasha paused, and Nemorov vaguely felt a hundred half-formed ideas dart around the Comnet like wood mites. 'And they think our General is bleeding out down there.'

'Is he?' Nemorov had to know. 'And did you find Nell?'

'The engineers haven't found Nell yet. Olaf will be fine, barring interference; we have medics down there treating him. We have to keep their shelling away from the rotunda, though.'

Were they that confident in Nell's ability to fend for herself, even in the state she was in? Or was it something else, something they didn't know?

'They've drawn us away from the main front,' Sasha observed. 'And they're keeping us away as long as they can with the attack force that would be useless on the other front thanks to Grit's range advantage.'

Nemorov felt himself shiver. The enemy was operating desperately, yet there was still an order to their madness. By taking these actions, they may well have ceded the capital to Blue Moon, but that wasn't his concern right now. His concern was the safety of CO-General Olaf, and the Bowlheads had put him in a position where there was little he could do to help.

'Your orders, Colonel?'

'Continue counter-sniping operations. I still need you here in case Orange Star attempts an airdrop. My Spetsnaz units will move ahead and strike at the enemy indirects.'

'Acknowledged. We'll continue our observation and counter-sniping.'

Nemorov continued staring out at the blizzard through his binoculars.

Still no movement.

* * *

**Orange Star Command Post, Alara Region**

**11:00 PM**

David Carroll propped himself up in his seat with both hands. The last two and a half hours had disappeared, only fragments remaining in his memory, though the exhaustion was still pushing through every muscle in his body.

After the tanks had left bombardment range, no major incidents had taken place, although he had not let down his guard until the tanks were back across the near bridge. The infantry had moved up to guard the crossing, but the enemy did not advance. Even if the battle continued, his task was done. There was no way he could continue in this state.

"Consider my doubts allayed, Advisor." Carroll had almost forgotten that Stoneham was there.

The Captain laughed. "I'm not gonna ask about that now, though. You look like you've been at it all day."

"Something like that," David gasped.

"I'll let you take a few hours off, then. I've uploaded the location of your quarters to your PDA. Take some winks and I won't bother you unless a big one happens." Stoneham's expression was unreadable. "I'll be expecting you up here when the reinforcements get in."

"Captain." David forced his shaking legs up and staggered towards the door.

The "officers' quarters" was several tents away; on the way, David took a look out at the makeshift base. The camp was barely defended, and most of the sentries in the guard towers appeared to be combat engineers. The command building was the only one with walls. All the rest were thick tents that, as David found out when he entered, did little to block out the cold winds.

David's bunk was already outfitted accordingly, with the thickest sleeping bag he'd ever seen. Several other sleeping officers were around the bunk, which was fully-lit even at this time of night. David quickly changed out of his uniform into pajamas, and fell over on his bunk, but sleep didn't come. The bright light seared the back of his eyes, and even with the sleeping bag, periodic gusts of wind chilled him as they came blasting through the tent flaps.

He didn't count the minutes, but eventually, it become too much. One coat and pair of boots later, he stepped back out into the cold, staring out into the darkness, watching tanks and soldiers run around across a network of lines and squares in the shapes moving across his eyes. Darkness always did funny things to perception.

"Hey." David had walked straight up to a set of porta-potties, and a lieutenant with the combat engineers was sticking his head out of the one he'd almost walked right onto. "Sorry, this one's taken. Try the one to the right."

"Oh. I'm not here to-" David started.

"Hm? Oh, I see. You're new to the dump. It stinks like Satan's sauna in here, but these are military-grade toilets, man. Even with the vent up top, these walls are better than that damn tent." The lieutenant looked at his with an odd expression. David wondered what the man saw in his expression. The lieutenant shrugged. "What? Hey, I've read the manual ten times over, and there's no regs against sleepin' in a honey bucket."

"No... at ease. I'm just patrolling." David turned and walked down the line of apparently well-insulated toilets.

David was at the camp's fence before he knew it. The engineer in the guard tower gave him a strange look, but said nothing as David turned and started towards the next corner of the base. Several laps passed, and with them, the time. At one point, David thought he saw an officer resembling Stoneham, but the man didn't give him a second look and David didn't feel like pursuing him.

The cold no longer bit into his face. He idly reflected that perhaps it was a good thing that faces could go numb. The chain-link fences were bad protection, even with the barbed wire up top. What would explosives do to a camp like this? Suppose Blue Moon had helicopters nearby. That would be quite a thought experiment. As David patrolled, his sight reduced itself to just a few feet, obscured by the faces and bodies stepping around on a grid, little lines replacing their gunshots and footsteps.

With his mind dozing and body numbed by the cold, David didn't feel the officer drag him back into the sleeping tent.

* * *

**Blue Moon Forward HQ (Coral Fortress), Alara Region**

**December 14, 12:30 AM**

Petrine opened her eyes and rose from the Amplifier, tugged at by the usual waking stiffness in her arms and legs. "Captain Bashmet? Your analysis?"

"There are no Breakcom signatures from the other side," Bashmet muttered. "But their armored group could not have escaped across the bridges without some kind of aid. From the satellite views, it is clear this was not mere luck."

"So, a Projector?" Petrine stood straight and stretched. "But none of Orange Star's Projectors have an ability that could explain this."

"It must be one we don't know about, then." Bashmet's chair swiveled around. "This bodes ill for our strategy, Major."

"No." A click of Petrine's heels firmed her denial of the idea. "We still have the upper hand, Projector or no. We can afford to fight here and learn more about our foe's abilities."

"And eliminate him." Bashmet smiled.

"If practical, Captain. If practical." Her advisor always had the habit of getting ahead of himself.


	15. Field Training IV: Unit Repair 1

It's been over 3 months since the last update, and for that, I do apologize. I've been busy with graduate school and with working on a story that I hope to polish enough to get published. Despite that, I've gotten this chapter done to my liking and, at least for those living in or west of the United States' mountain time zone, managed to get it out before the first half of January was over. It won't be 3 months until the next update, though I can't guarantee it will be out quickly.

Well, onwards!

**Update 3/27/2013: **Well. I was busy with grad school, and I was taking a break to work on my side-projects (original fic and programming a Fire Emblem-style tactics game), but I recently felt inspired to continue this story. Contrary to what I said above, it's almost another 3 months since the last chapter, but I'm working on a new chapter now and I'll try to get it out before the 15th of April.

* * *

**Field Training IV: Unit Repair 1  
**

**North Jefferson City – Ruined Mega-mall Complex**

**Sasha's Division – 97th Mechanized Battalion, A Company, 1st Platoon**

**December 14, 2:20 AM**

Lieutenant Nemorov was patrolling the parking garage when the gunshot happened.

The garage had taken some shells, but not enough that there was a danger of structural collapse. A few of Nemorov's men were injured, and third squad was being sown back together after the tanks had hit earlier, but there were no deaths so far. In the meantime, the Bowlheads' artillery were slowly pulling back, keeping out of range of Grit and Sasha's forces, but there were always a couple that stayed back to fire at the rotunda despite such action meaning certain doom. Seemed as though Olaf had been wrong about their spirit breaking.

Speaking of Olaf, he was still being treated in the pit. A few shells had gone off a little too close, and a second medical team was down there now. Nell was still nowhere to be found.

Nemorov was just about to report in to Sasha when-

*pffft*

A ringing erupted in his left ear, drowning out his hearing. Dorogaia fell, a deep red blossoming from her right side, and Private Dityatev dropped to his back, blood spurting from the side of his mouth.

'Snipers. Bullet source?' Nemorov's voice in the Comnet was steady in his shock. Once again, he had danced with death. He reached absently to the side of his head, feeling a wetness on his ear, then dropped to the pavement, crawling toward Dityatev. When no medic was attached to a squad, the team leaders held a few first-aid packs filled with Emeraldine. Galya, as the squad leader, had some for herself, but not Dityatev. Nemorov removed one and placed the gel across the side and front of Dityatev's mouth to stop the bleeding.

He inspected the damage. The bullet had gone in his soldier's mouth and out through his cheek, taking out a few teeth and ripping his face but otherwise leaving him unharmed. It was something surgery could fix, but he needed to stop the bleeding.

'Still searching. The snipers were at different positions. There were two shots against your third squad outside.' Sasha sounded stressed.

Nemorov reached out through the Comnet. He could not find Sergeant Pervaia's presence, nor that of the other soldier who had been shot. He hoped they hadn't been hit in the head.

Another two presences disappeared from the Comnet. 'Sergeant Ignatova. Status.'

'It's all clear in the south. The snipers must have gone around.'

North and west. The directions that were supposedly under their control.

'Sasha here. We've located one of the marauders. Spetsnaz will handle it.'

'They do not mean to survive...' None of it made sense to Nemorov. It would be one thing if the Bowlheads intended to sneak in and assassinate Olaf, but there was no way they would make it into the site, not with his troops and Sasha's armor holding the area. The plan didn't make any strategic or tactical sense.

Well, it wasn't his business to think about that. It was his business to keep his soldiers alive. Here, though, there was nothing they could do but stay in cover and try to take advantage of Sasha's research into where the shots were coming from.

Another set of gunshots. Nemorov almost wished he was part of the main assault again. At least that way he could tell himself he was doing something. Here, his only sniper was out of commission, and when he went back to the ledge to look through his binoculars, he still saw nothing in the blinding snow.

* * *

It was at least half an hour before all of the snipers were killed or driven off. Six of his soldiers were dead, and another fifteen were wounded. That was almost half of his force.

'Pull back, Lieutenant. You did fine.' Sasha voice made him feel a little better, but some of his soldiers were still dead.

'They hid in thermal-shielded pockets around the city. Several buildings had them built in case of our invasion.' Sasha's fatigue weighed down the entire Comnet. 'Pull out, Lieutenant. Our leader is safe. The Bowlheads are pulling back. Armored will handle it from here.'

'Have we captured Nell?' Nemorov was still nervous. The Bowlheads knew the area; doubtless there was a passage leading out of the mall that they hadn't found.

'She's still missing. We found several tunnels leading away from the mall, along with a subway line. We're searching the passages now.'

'Permission to join the hunt, Colonel? Sergeant Vdovin will take the wounded to the nearest aid station.' Nemorov desperately wanted to help them search.

'If you feel up to it, then I could use more soldiers in the underground. I'll send you the routes through the Comnet.'

Nemorov glanced at Vdovin to make sure he heard, and Vdovin nodded. The long night was about to get longer, but Nemorov didn't care. If they captured Nell before she got away, his comrades' deaths would not be pointless.

* * *

**Orange Star Command Post, Alara Region**

**4:55 AM**

Gordon Tebowski was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes when the APCs came to a halt outside the forward base.

"Alright, it's pile-out time," announced Sergeant Emilia "Lead" Hartgrove, making no motion to initiate said pile-out despite being seated near the now open door. "Briefing's at 0515, so make yourselves comfy here."

Gordon's fireteam leader, Eric "Pound" Pentz, was already off the APC, followed by Annie "Ember" and her light machine gun. Pound looked back at the rest of them. "Alright, guys. It's a windstorm out there, so you've got half an hour to practice freezing your ass off before we do it for real."

Before Gordon even stepped out, he found one what they meant. A gust of wind caught the side of his nose as he cleared the opening, bringing a feeling like he'd dipped it in cold water. There was no rain or snow, but the ground was like frozen mud, and he wouldn't blame anyone describing the base camp as such either. The tents weren't even insulated, and the command room was just another large tent.

"They've seriously got HQ equipment in that cheap ol' tent?" That was Rainy, the grenadier and last member of his fireteam. "Man, even the brass don't got it good here."

Gordon saw Tayless and Folger still sticking close together, staying away from Deuce, their fireteam's LMG user. Lead and Boss stayed in the APC talking while the rest of them stared at the camp.

As the other APCs pulled up, many of the soldiers disembarking from them had a similar reaction, standing outside the camp and talking and pointing.

_Where's the commander here? _Gordon didn't want to look cold, so he resisted the urge to hug himself, but he was starting to shake a little. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He hadn't joined the army just to freeze to death in the mountains.

Early morning training was second nature to him – hell, 4:30 AM was his wake-up call long before Sergeant Nasty and his Thousand Sirens. This time of the morning always had a surreal feel to it, but it was extra strong today.

This would be his first "proper" combat, after all.

The human mass started to move into the camp, and Gordon followed. No chance of a hot meal here; one deadfaced combat engineer handed them out small shots of coffee, bags of beef jerky, and the usual preserved veggie-fruit gel cups. Gordon ate the food in silence, but snuck a few strips of the jerky into his bag – if they were stuck out in the field for a while, it'd be better than the ration bars.

"Atten-hrumph!" That sound marked the start of the briefing, probably; Gordon stiffened up with all the others. The makeshift auditorium was just a half-sunken podium in front of a half-destroyed billboard advertising some kind of crackers.

A mustached officer with an irritating presence stood up on the podium, facing the squads. "At ease. Right, you're all here. I am Captain Jerry Stoneham, commander of the 19th Armored's Charlie Company. I'll be in temporary command of the 25th Infantry elements in this area for the duration of the engagement. Lieutenant Vena, you have the podium."

"S-sir!" Gordon's platoon commander stumbled up to the podium as Stoneham stared him up and down. Vena looked up at his, avoiding his gaze, then Stoneham laughed and stepped down from the podium, leaving a flustered Vena to speak.

"Alright. Our objective is the Blue Moon HQ across the three rivers to the east. Captain Stoneham has a couple tank groups fighting up front, but we've been pushed back across the bridge and we need to buy time for the tanks to regroup and resupply. Our job is to advance to the first river and support the heavy weapons squads that are currently holding the bridge. If an opportunity arises, we'll cross the bridge and hold at the village between the first and second river until the tanks are ready to move."

Stoneham waved a bit with his hands. "The Lieutenant and I will be in contact from the forward base. We also have a special guest... a trump card, you might say." Vena's eyes widened. Apparently he hadn't been told all the details.

Stoneham continued. "Code name Moses. Sadly, he's not here to say hi right now, but he'll be watching over you all with his staff up high. I've got a good feeling about this one. You deploy at 0600. Anything else to say, Vena?"

Vena shook his head, so Stoneham smiled, a fierce glint in his eye. "I apologize for all the secrecy, 25th Infantry. Rest assured, it'll all make sense in the course of things. Dismissed!"

"The hell was all that Moses stuff about?" muttered Rainy. "Hey, Bowski. Ever heard of it?"

"I don't think I'd get his message even if I did."

Rainy laughed. "Well, whatever. I'm glad that Vena's got someone watching over him. He's kind of new, if you couldn't tell. This Stoneham guy looks to know what he's doing."

"_Captain_ Stoneham, if you will." Rainy jumped as Stoneham clapped a firm hand on his shoulder, as if out of nowhere. "Don't you worry, I'll give the Lieutenant some pointers."

"Sir," Gordon stuttered, saluting.

Stoneham returned the salute. "I'm looking for your squad leader. She slipped away right after I finished talking."

"No idea, sir," Rainy answered.

"I see. Well, dismissed." Stoneham slipped away into the crowd.

"Yikes." Rainy looked around. "He's good."

"How long have you been with the squad?" Gordon asked.

"I just joined 'em two weeks ago. Lead, Pound, Boss, and Ember were the originals. Man, it's been nasty both before and after I joined. Let's hope this one doesn't go ass-up."

Gordon remembered back to when he first met Lead. _Jeez, how did Levi deal with you people_, she had said. Looking at Rainy's suddenly stony expression, he decided not to ask. Instead,

"This Sto- Captain Stoneham doesn't seem like the type to make mistakes like that."

"Man, you don't need to screw up to get shot up. Sometimes the screw does it for you." Rainy sniffed at the air. "Weather's a bad omen. The Moonies are more used to this."

Gordon couldn't argue. It was becoming difficult to appear unbothered by the cold. "We don't really have time to do more than digest. No point hanging around here."

"They don't exactly have a mess hall here. Usually they ask us to keep busy, but it's like they don't even care."

"More energy for the fight," Gordon's throat and stomach tightened as soon as the word entered his mouth, "...then."

"Or the long walk to the fight." Rainy walked after him, though. "Well, maybe we'll find a nice heated basement around here."

* * *

**Orange Star Command Post, Alara Region**

**6:30 AM**

David Carroll felt in over his head this time. Perhaps it was the lack of comforts around the camp. Perhaps it was something else. His instincts screamed at him that there was something amiss, that someone he didn't want to face was nearby. David figured it was just a holdover from his dream. His sleep up until half an hour ago had been fevered, restless.

The infantry reinforcements were crossing the river just east of the HQ. At this rate, they would reaching the first contested crossing within an hour. At that crossing, Blue Moon's tanks were assaulting the bridge, shelling his heavy infantry squads from afar. _The mechanics working on the tanks had better be as good as Stoneham said_.

Speaking of Stoneham, he was there in the HQ again, hovering over David as he worked. David blamed the Captain for his lack of concentration, but perhaps it was the dreams that had done it to him. He couldn't even remember what they had been.

"Today's the big day, Advisor." Stoneham spoke suddenly. "We lose this battle, and we'll be mighty sunk."

"News from the capital?" At breakfast, that had been all the junior officers could talk about.

"Still no word on Nell, but they're closing in on the Jefferson Tower. The final walls are broken. There's fighting now in the innermost city, building to building. Can't see them lasting two more days."

To David, it seemed like it wouldn't matter anymore what they did here, but he didn't say that aloud. Besides, the soldiers here were counting on him. "So, if that's going on, why's this place so important?"

"If the mainland's smart, they'd best be sending us backup about now. They'll be coming in from the coast, but if things keep up, we might not even have that left by the time they arrive." Stoneham puffed on his cigar. "The Moonies won't have much firepower left after the fighting at the capital. You won't have to worry 'bout them coming down here."

"This area's pretty well-defensible." David could see the idea behind it. "Keep Blue Moon focused on driving us out of here, and that'll help... who's holding the coast right now?"

"Last I checked, it was CO-Major Sami."

"Take some of the pressure off her."

"Which will give her some breathing room to break Blue Moon's supply lines."

_Figures._ "You all have a backup plan already, don't you? For a moment I thought you were talking doom and gloom on me."

"Well, the whole thing was Sami's idea. With Nell out of action and no word from the top brass, she's the best strategist left on the continent," Stoneham said.

"Gutsy. Even at the edge of defeat, we're gonna keep attacking."

"It's exactly what Olaf doesn't expect us to do. Based on the speeches our spies caught on tape, it sounds like he's expecting us to go all belly-up when the capital's taken. It'll be a real shocker for the bloke, won't it?"

A beeping noise came from the console, and David focused back on the screen. "There's been a report from the mechanics. Sounds like the repairs will take a little longer than they thought. Some of the tanks are barely holding together."

"Damn. Can't be helped, I suppose." Stoneham leaned against some electronics. "We'll have to hold on a little longer then. The infantry should make it to the river in time to relieve our troops there."

"This is just phase one of the operation. We can't risk taking too long." David suddenly got an idea. "Stoneham. Those tank groups were from the same company, correct? Do they usually work together?"

He leaned forward, interested. "Actually, yes. Why do you ask?"

"Think they're familiar enough with each other that they could operate as a platoon?" David turned to face Stoneham.

"Well... perhaps. I'm not sure." Stoneham looked doubtful.

"The enemy has lots of heavy weapons. We wouldn't even need any tanks if the enemy didn't have two platoons of them. It's the infantry we need to get rid of their anti-tank squads across the river." David tried to hide his worry. "I have a plan."

* * *

**Battlefield**

**7:15 AM**

It was dark, windy, and rainy as Squad 3 moved through the woods towards the front lines. Since they'd left the HQ, Lead hadn't stopped complaining to her squad.

"They actually told us to take our inflatable rafts across the river! The freaking river, in this goddamn weather! Can you believe it?"

"It's not like they told us to swim." Boss rolled his eyes. "Come on, Lead. It's winter, for god's sake."

"I'll bet that's the very next thing they tell us to do! When I get back, HQ is hearing about this travesty!"

"Has she always been like this?" Gordon tried asking Ember, but she didn't respond. Great. Another one like Far. Well, at least Rainy was talkative enough. Gordon sure hoped that guy would survive the battle.

Despite all the gear, Gordon thought his nose was freezing off. The rain kept getting through his hat and uniform. Why the hell wasn't it snowing? It sure was cold enough. It wouldn't bother anyone; that Olaf wasn't here to take advantage of it, after all.

Then, he heard it over the howling wind: distant sounds of gunfire. His fears didn't come true; his body didn't start freaking out or carrying him away from the sound. So far, so good. He wasn't chickening out.

"Alright, look alive, people!" Pound called. "We're about to reach the front!"

"Listen up!" Lead yelled through her comm, despite the others being within earshot. "Our task is to guard the riverbanks and make sure no Moonies come a crossin'! I'm not sure why anyone would want to try and ford hell's frozen waters, but it's a right lucky break for us!"

"Not really," muttered Ember from next to him, too quiet for even Pound to hear. "Damn it all. Less Moonies to kill. Just get me back into the action already." That was the first time Gordon had heard her speak. Okay, maybe she wasn't like Far after all.

The riverbank was hidden within the trees, which lent itself well to hiding spots. The river bent at an angle such that the battle on the bridge wasn't visible due to the trees, but Lead seemed pretty confident about what was going on there.

"Even if we could see the bridge, there'd be nothing there to see. Their tanks aren't gonna just roll out in the open for our heavies to take potshots at. Nah, they're gonna hide like we are, at least 'till they get impatient."

"Or until we freeze to death." Gordon pulled his helmet on tighter. It didn't help much against the cold.

* * *

**Orange Star Command Post, Alara Region**

**7:****3****5 AM**

"Tank platoon reorganization complete. 1st Platoon is moving out for the river."

"Excellent. Moses out." David scrolled his screen back to the bridge area. The enemy tanks were holding back, shelling from across the river, taking care not to draw too much fire from his heavy infantry.

The infantry were holding fine – David's threat lines allowed them to avoid the shelling. If Petrine had infantry in the area, it would be too hazardous to break cover so readily, but the tanks were all she had for the next half hour. Then again, Petrine's heavy infantry would soon be there. Between her heavies and her tanks, they'd force a breakthrough at the bridge. Well, unless David did it first.

He wasn't looking forward to that part. Without a Comnet, he wouldn't be able to coordinate evasion across all of the units. If he could create a network between the soldiers like a real Breakcom, he might even be able to keep them absolutely safe in many situations, but as far as he was concerned, he'd be useless to the soldiers once the real fighting started.

"Just concentrate on keeping our tanks alive," Stoneham advised. "Tanks are big, bulky, and can't take cover, but there's gonna be fewer guns trying to tickle 'em. Your power can keep 'em out of harm's way. Trust the infantry to do their jobs."

"Kind of wish I was out there myself," David muttered. The firefight at the gas stop floated unbidden into his mind, which only made him feel worse. Even if he'd been a monster there, at least he'd been useful.

"A little late for that." Stoneham leaned back. David realized he hadn't seen the Captain sit down all day. "Just focus on the battle. All this wander-minding gets us nowhere."

* * *

**Blue Moon Forward HQ (Coral Fortress), Alara Region**

**7:****50**** AM**

'Bashmet here. They're bringing their tanks up earlier than we expected.'

'What a strange enemy commander. And still no Comnet signatures. His infantry are dancing around our shots... they've only taken a few injuries so far.'

Bashmet scratched his head. 'So it's an evasion ability of some kind. He can probably see where we're going to attack. We can't handle them with so few troops. If we pull back now-'

'Then our heavy infantry will not be able to retreat quickly enough, and they will be overrun. I cannot approve that course of action.'

Bashmet thought that it didn't really matter, that the heavy infantry would buy them more time to defend the Coral Fortress, but he didn't send that thought. Petrine didn't approve of falling back under any circumstances. Perhaps he'd been naïve to think she'd approve it just this once.

'Very well. I'll tell the heavy infantry to speed their advance.'

'We will also send all of the infantry down through the river. That way, we can attack them from behind. Tell them to line up with the tanks as the tanks cross the river.'

That made more sense. Petrine must be planning to use her OF Power. 'Very well. I'll start the advance. We should be ready within 10 minutes.'

'Excellent. At 0800, start the advance.'

* * *

**Battlefield**

**8:0****2**** AM**

"This is Lead! Command called and said that tanks are clashing on the bridge!"

Gordon snapped out of his trance, then felt ashamed when he realized he'd spaced out. "The tanks are ahead? What about us?"

"Enemy infantry are rushing into the water! Wait for a clear shot before you fire, people! Don't let them know your exact positions!" Lead was talking a mile a minute. "They're Comnet-linked to each other, so if one knows where you are, all the others do too! That's an advantage we do _not_ have!"

Gordon couldn't see anyone out on the dark river. The water was half-frozen, flurries of slush slowly drifting down the water. A few gunshots sounded out nearby. He couldn't tell which side was shooting.

Lead's voice screeched into his ears again. "Just got a call from Stoneham! The enemy OF's Power is charged and at the ready!"

"OF Power? Whassat mean for us?" Rainy squeezed off a few rounds towards the river.

For a moment, the night sky was illuminated, and under that, Gordon saw the enemy in the river. A squad of soldiers in thermal wetsuits surfaced next to the riverbank, pulling their rifles out of watertight packets.

It was several seconds before Gordon comprehended he should be pulling the trigger. In that time, though, he saw it would be no use. As his squad's bullets flew towards the enemy, a glowing wall of light appeared in the air, forming a shape similar to a castle's ramparts. The bullets smacked into the wall and disappeared.

"Well, I'll be..." Rainy dropped for cover as the enemy, no longer worrying about cover or concealment, climbed onto the bank, firing up at them.

"We're falling back!" Boss yelled. "New orders from HQ: retreat west and get away from the enemy! A squad from the north will come down to support us!"

Gordon was ashamed of how fast his legs moved as he ran.

* * *

**Orange Star Command Post, Alara Region**

**8:03**** AM**

"Her power, Fortress Wall." Stoneham spat. "Lasts for about half an hour, maybe less if we throw enough ammo at 'em. In that time, all her squads are protected from oncoming fire, but only on one side. If we attack them from two sides at once, we could pin them down until it passes."

David looked at the battle on the bridge. "They were prepared for this, but they only have a couple platoons. Pull back from the bridge."

Stoneham didn't seem to like that idea. "We can't afford to let them bring up their heavies."

"We can't afford to send our infantry in the river to flank them. They'll be torn up by the enemy's other tanks."

"If we let the enemy pour across the bridge-"

"Then we can attack them from multiple sides."

"Not with their infantry moving through the river!" Stoneham grimaced. "Her heavy infantry are strolling up too."

"But they won't be able to catch up in time if we fall back. Trust me, Captain. I know what I'm doing here." This time, he actually meant it. If Petrine waited, she'd waste her chance. If she attacked, she wouldn't be able to use her power to its fullest. Either way, it was her loss for relying so heavily on that power. The rivers and roads didn't help her out; her Comnet ability only strengthened natural cover, of which there was none there.

The battle was already his. He knew that much, but there was another reason he was pulling the soldiers back. He still felt something odd off of that infantry unit in the south, like he didn't want to put it in the line of fire. For some reason, he didn't want to know why.


	16. Field Training V: Trial by Fire

**Author's note:** Apologies for the long wait, as explained in the new note for the last chapter. This one's a bit rushed, but I do feel that it turned out quite well given that. Not sure what the estimated time will be on the next chapter.

* * *

**Field Training V: Trial by Fire**

**8:07 AM**

The din in the air was deafening, but that did not slow the retreat of Private Gordon Tebowski and his squad. Not everyone in the group looked happy with the turn of events, though.

"If all we need to do is flank 'em, then just split the hell up and set a trap," Gordon heard Deuce shout to Boss.

"Back in line, Private." Lead glared at him. "Command told us to run like maggots, so we run like maggots."

"Maggots don't..." Deuce shot her a murderous look, but shut up.

Something seemed off about this to Gordon as well, but he didn't say anything. Running like this was all fine as long as they had a forest to run through, but they were approaching a clearing, and there they'd just be target practice for their pursuers unless they turned north to try and flank the main force.

From the way they were running, he could tell that wouldn't be the case.

* * *

**Orange Star Command Post, Alara Region**

**8:15 AM**

David picked at his thumb as he watched the enemy pour across the bridge in a mass, infantry using the tanks as cover. As they crossed the bridge, they slowed their advance, tanks glancing around as if unsure of the situation.

"They should know we don't have any troops there." David scratched his head. "Are they even looking at the sat maps?"

Stoneham laughed nervously, relief evident on his face. "One of Petrine's quirks, perhaps. I won't risk jinxing it."

The lull didn't last long. The tanks continued moving up in pursuit of the retreating Orange Star troops, slowing to match the pace of the infantry between their ranks.

"So she's opted for the safe road." Stoneham whistled. "This could be trouble."

David breathed a sigh of relief. "At least she's wasted her OF Power."

Stoneham laughed. "Far from it, advisor. That shield may not have blocked any of our bullets, but it did draw us away from the chokepoints at the river.

He was right. "Then we set up at the bridge in front of the camp. Without her Power, she'll have to cross it the hard way."

"And we're strategically right back where we started, except we've ceded our supply camps to the enemy." Stoneham stared into his eyes. "And aren't you forgetting something? Say, a squad you sent south to the riverbank, one that will be in shooting range of their pursuers soon enough?"

David flipped back and forth between the satellite overview and individual feeds, a cold sweat breaking out on his neck. "We'll have them take cover at a supply camp, maybe divert a squad to aid them."

"With all requisite respect, sir, they'll be caught by enemy tanks before they make it back to HQ." Stoneham shook his head curtly. "And you forget Petrine's abilities. Natural cover is her ally – even something as flimsy as tall grass can block bullets for those in her Comnet. Your choice, advisor. Stand our ground on poor terrain, or sacrifice that squad?"

It was clear to David, then. "Damn." He got to work at the console, submitting orders for the subcommanders to send to their squad leaders.

* * *

**8:21 AM**

Above the din of the pouring rain, gunshots punctuated the morning air.

"They're at the edge of the forest," Pound observed without panic.

"What do we do?" Gordon's lungs burned. His legs probably would too if he could feel them.

"Keep on running." Pound shrugged. "They won't reliably hit us from this range."

"Reliably."

"More likely than a traffic accident. Less than winning a small sum at the slots." Pound actually laughed. "Man up. It's war. People shoot at you."

For the first time, Gordon was glad David and others weren't there. Well, maybe not David. If he was there, then...

"_He'd_ hit 'em even at this range," he muttered.

"Who would?" Rainy ran up beside Gordon, looking like a dog that had just finished a swim in the sewers. "Friend of yours?"

_Popped a whole squad's worth of Moonies last time I fought with him,_ Gordon wanted to say, but his chest was tight and air wouldn't flow freely – all he could do was shrug.

"Don't worry. Once we turn 'round and face the Moonies, the old farts here will tear 'em a new one. Or two." Rainy slapped him on the shoulder. "We're in good company here."

Gordon had no doubt they were capable of it, especially Ember, who looked ready to tear Command five and counting. That was a woman who didn't take retreat well, and she sure didn't look happy about lugging such a heavy weapon like that LMG around without getting to use it on anyone.

"Our destination's the supply camp." Lead waved down Ember and Deuce's shouts. "I know, that's ETA 60-plus at a running pace. Well, suck it up. We'll be joining with the main force there and taking on the Moonies with the rest of 'em."

"Are we really gonna run this long?" said Justin Folger in Team A.

"Exercise. Drop dead on the way and I'll leave you to the Moonies. You know what they do to cowards?" Lead laughed mercilessly. "No royal treatment for most POWs, but even the biggest commie-zombie among the Moonies thinks more highly of us 'Bowlheads' than their side's cowards. Imagine what they do to ours."

Justin moaned and kept running. Gordon followed, cursing under his breath and wishing he knew just what the plan was.

* * *

Within 10 minutes, the gunfire faded away. Despite that, the squad's pace slowed only slightly.

"We've got to make it back to the supply camps in time." Even Pound looked almost out of breath. "Besides, if they aren't shooting, they're pursuing us even faster."

"What... do... then?" Gordon panted.

"We fight. Man, what kind of sorry training 'd they give you at the Goldie?" Pound glowered down at him. "I'll put it this way. It's not your job to worry about what you can and can't do. That's what Lead and I are for. If we don't think you're broken, you're not broken." He turned around and watched the horizon behind them for a few seconds as he ran.

"HQ says that squad's still in pursuit anyhow. Can't slow down now." Pound left the consequences unsaid.

The plains were even soggier than when they had come out there. The ground was practically a marsh now – Gordon's boots routinely sank into the mud with each step. That, he was used to back on the farm. What he wasn't used to was the lack of a clear goal. Sure, they were headed back to the supply camps, but only Stoneham and "Moses" knew what the plan was from there. It wouldn't have been so bad if the crew from his training squad was there, but now...

He cursed himself again inside. Why'd it have to be Blue Moon? He really didn't want to die fighting an enemy he cared nothing about.

* * *

**Orange Star Command Post, Alara Region**

**8:54 AM**

"Our backmost squads have reached the supply camps." Stoneham stared mournfully at the nearly-empty cigar case in his hand. "The tanks will arrive in 15 minutes, then the rest soon enough. Enemy contact in 25 at this pace."

"And the southern infantry?" David stared worriedly at the battle map. Their squad was traveling far too slow, and their pursuers were almost on them.

"Damned if I know what's holding them up. Prob'ly the mud. They'll be running ducks against that armor if our foe heads south first; better hope the Moonies' tanks aren't in the mood for a turkey shoot."

That was a good point. "You tell me. You've been fighting Petrine for longer than I have."

"And I still haven't figured the bloody bird out." Stoneham finally decided on one of the last three cigars. "Sometimes she waffles back like at the bridge. Other times, she charges like she's gone completely mental. There's no predicting that woman."

"There's a pattern here," David muttered to himself. So why hadn't he figured it out yet?

* * *

**9:20 AM**

Gordon was glad to be alive, though the tension hadn't left his body. The rain still came down hard, but about 10 minutes earlier, as they went down into a valley of sorts, he'd seen even Lead grow tense. On low ground in the middle of a swamped plain, they would have been sitting ducks if the enemy had decided to pursue. Every second had stretched into a pain that he eventually just clamped down on and tried his best to ignore.

Not that all gunfire was gone at this point; north, he could hear the din of battle rising again, and they were quickly approaching it. His heart pounded hard into his ears; unlike the other rookies, he wasn't too badly beat by the march they'd done, but it still seemed ridiculous that they were expected to engage the enemy at the end. He didn't voice those concerns.

The supply camp grew ever larger in the distance, up on a small incline. It was hardly any more homelike than the makeshift HQ, but the hill at least gave it a strong defensive position. As they approached, the squad's pace finally slowed.

"Camp's up on that hill," Pound said. "Keep your eyes at three o' clock when we approach. Enemy's out there somewhere."

"So the supply bases are still safe? Whew." Rainy grinned. "Guess we can't say nothin' went right today."

"We arrived just in time." Pound glared over at fireteam A, which lagged about over a hundred meters behind them due to the rookies' exhaustion. "Though I can't say those two newbies will be in a fighting state."

As they got closer to the camp, Lead signaled them all towards an abandoned barn to the far west of the base, her hand signal indicating that satellite feeds stated the barn was clear of hostiles. Still, they approached the barn carefully, Gordon not letting down his guard until they were safely inside.

"Right. Take your 2-minute breather here, because we're heading right into the fray." Lead paced back and forth, same irritable expression on her face. "Here's the deal. We're facing tanks and heavy infantry. Our guys have got the numbers advantage, but they've got the firepower."

Lead grabbed a shovel from the wall of the barn and drew a crude map in the mud. "We'll be entering the camp through the south. Defenders there know we're comin'. Most of 'em are up against the northmost fortifications right now. Team A, great luck: you get the southeast. Only our pursuers are in that direction. Team B, you get main east."Gordon barely managed to stop himself from grimacing at that news.

She drew a few circles outside the box indicating the camp. "The defenders don't have much cover out there. They're relying mostly on concealment in the tall grasses. Our sats know their general locations, but not their exact positions. However... well, we have our ways of knowing." She rolled her eyes. "Or so Stoneham says."

A weird feeling ran through Gordon. "Question, ma'am."

"Your only question, I hope."

"Did Stoneham elaborate? Is this a new weapon of ours, or maybe..."

"Damned if I know." Lead cackled. "Probably not a weapon, 'cause why would we have a top-secret weapon all the way out here in the boonies?"

Gordon felt a chill as Lead continued. "So yeah. Command assures me this is an open-and-shut battle. I've heard that one before, so keep your eyes open and stay frosty."

"That last part shouldn't be too hard in this weather," quipped Rainy.

Lead spat. "Yeah, shut up. If the armored boys can do their jobs properly, this could be a milk run. Of course, they never do their jobs."

She stood. "Time's wasting. Let's go get this over with."

The next few minutes were a blur, and soon they were crossing the edge of the camp. The camp itself wasn't very large, perhaps half the length of a football field in each direction. There was a south and a north entrance, large enough for a tank to come in for repairs. On the far west edge of the camp, a tent fluttered in the wind, sheltering mechanics who crouched in the back. Just north of the camp, Gordon could see their side's tank platoon, shelling away into the grass to the east.

Gordon's eyes flit around the place they were to defend – the ammo stockpiles and tools in the back, the combat engineers and another infantry squad at the barricades far away, bullet holes in the sandbags around the camp, discarded shell casings and clips around the floor. As they entered the camp, Gordon crouched over and tried to stay low, but Pound rolled his eyes at him and signaled for him to hurry to his position.

"How do we target anything in this downpour?" Rainy shouted.

"Suppressive fire!" yelled Pound. "Don't expect to hit anything! Just keep 'em down and stuck in one place, and for heaven's sake, don't get shot!"

"Like hell!" Ember shouted, and then Gordon dropped as his ears were almost blasted out by the sound of her light machine gun blasting lead down across the flooded plains, distant splashes downfield betraying nothing about their enemies' positions.

Lead stared down at her muddy tablet, shouting. "Sat reports enemy locations as follows! Heavy infantry, 2 squads at 10 o' clock, 250 to 300 meters! Light infantry, one squad 12 o'clock, 200 to 270 meters, one squad 1 o'clock, 190 to 220 meters! Tanks, 10 of 'em, 11 o' clock, 300 to 310 meters, advancing!"

Gordon shut his eyes tight, pressing up against the sandbags. He wanted to peek out and shoot, but his body didn't let him. _Come on, __Tebowski. One ambush can't have stomped the __soldier__ out of you__! _

With a great exertion, Gordon snapped his head over the barricades and fired a few shots off into the distance. The rattling of hot death from the weapon in his hands gave him confidence, and on the second peek, he stayed out for long enough to actually look at the situation.

Aside from a few flashes down below, he couldn't see anything through the rain. Remembering the training, he pulled back behind the barricades, mentally going through just how far 200 or so meters would be (which direction did she say again?) As he looked out, he saw that only the other newcomers were pressing so tightly to the barricades. The more experienced soldiers looked tense, but not afraid. As Lead had said, they didn't see this as a bad situation yet.

"Heavy infantry closing in! We'll be in range of the tanks soon!" Lead nodded at Pound, who pulled away from the barricades, evidently looking for something in the camp. The other veterans tensed, and Gordon felt another chill. To ignore it, he peeked out again and fired some more rounds out into the storm.

Then, a bright flash appeared below, and Gordon dropped to the floor on instinct.

Before he hit the ground, the ground shook and he fell on his side. As he righted himself, he saw a hole in the barricades at the far-north end of the camp. He didn't know if it was the enemy tanks or the heavy infantry, but from Lead's grim expression, he knew things were about to get hairy.

* * *

**Blue Moon Forward HQ (Coral Fortress), Alara Region**

**9:35 AM**

Bashmet paced, absently twiddling his thumbs. On the overview screens around him, two of the position dots had turned from a solid blue to a flashing blue.

Petrine confirmed it. 'One heavy infantry squad and one infantry squad are in retreat. All were hit by explosive weapons or shells, not small arms fire.'

'I see. So our foe's abilities can be used both for attack and defense.' Bashmet frowned. 'But without a Command Network, it must not be easy to take advantage of it.'

'Then his use of heavy weapons makes sense.' Petrine's voice came back, certain. 'He's telling them over comms where to move to, where to fire... he's directing their attack trajectory directly. In this storm, it's likely he can adjust for wind and movement as well.'

Bashmet understood. 'The tanks shall be our highest priority, then.'

'Those, and their heavy infantry – I do believe Orange Star's anti-tank weapons contain calibration electronics these days. He can direct them to fire at a certain angle, for instance. His light infantry number high, but against my abilities and in this storm, they're fairly useless. However, their rifles, and even simpler anti-tank weapons...'

'If he told them to fire in a given angle and direction, they would have no way to measure it, and even a small deviation would miss the mark.'

'It also means his heavy infantry will take longer to fire. If just a few of our tanks suppress them with cannon fire, it will make his efforts useless. Our main armor will shred their tanks before long.' Petrine smiled in her Comnet trance. 'Interesting tricks, enemy commander, but you showed your hand too early.'

* * *

**9:37 AM**

The front row of the southern camp's barricades was almost completely gone, and yet the squad merely stayed in place.

_This is madness. _Gordon's eyes stung from the smoke, his body only moving enough to squeeze off a few more rounds in some indeterminate direction away from the camp. Lead still yelled orders out, pressed against the muddy ground like an earthworm, but his ears rung too long – her words couldn't reach him.

"Hey! Aren't you listening?" A smack to the back of Gordon's helmet sent him face first into the mud, then twirling around to see Pound above him, frowning skeptically. "Enemy infantry at 2 o' clock, getting closer! They should be in visual range soon enough! What, do you want to get shot or something? Follow me!"

Gordon didn't notice himself crawling to face this new direction, but he must have, for soon he was back at the wrecked barricades, carefully crawling around the metal scraps in the ground. The rain still poured, and his sight didn't reveal anything beyond the mud and rain. He could tell that the others couldn't either, as they popped off shots towards the enemy in an undisciplined fashion, taking perhaps too long to peer over the edge.

A clicking noise from his rifle informed him that he was out of bullets. His hands fumbled with the next magazine – the process of reloading was no longer routine and easy in this environment. As he clicked it into the body of his rifle and brought it up towards his head again, he noticed that the screams around him had increased in volume. A loud bang erupted nearby, sending him back down into the mud.

Or so his ears told him – the impact he'd heard was no bullet. Gordon looked up; a trail of smoke led up into the air from the camp behind him. Pound had found a mortar in the camp and was putting it to good use.

"Get back!" Lead yelled. "Command says enemy tanks are-"

The explosions began again, and the remains of the barricade in front of Gordon was thrown into the air. Part of him wanted to stand, while the rest remained on the mud, crawling as fast as he could towards the inner line of barricades at the center of the camp.

One of the rookies in the north stood and ran – he couldn't tell which. A trail of smoke cut the air in front of the soldier, and the silhouette fell to the ground. For a terrible moment, Gordon thought his squadmate had been shot in half by a tank shell, but after a few seconds, the shape stirred and began to crawl. As they reached the inner barricades together, he saw it was Private Mila Tayless.

"Shit," she whispered, scratching at her cheek. "That thing was this _close_..." Her next words were drowned out by the sound of the mortar firing again.

"They're coming up on the hillside! Get in position!" yelled Lead, crouched behind the inner barricades. Gordon and the others mirrored her stance, and they waited, horrible seconds passing to the beat of the mortar.

* * *

**Orange Star Command Post, Alara Region**

**9:40 AM**

"Our infantry have been driven away from the edge of the second camp."

David barely heard Stoneham's words. Petrine was advancing aggressively – her outnumbered infantry were charging the southern camp, but her tanks in the distance had the camp suppressed. If any of those shells managed to make a hit...

And they were all advancing towards the southern camp, even though David knew his tanks had to be the real target. Petrine's remaining heavy infantry were advancing as well, using the tanks as cover against David's soldiers. It was too late for regrets, but deep inside, he knew he should have positioned his tanks inside the northern supply camp. His anti-tank squads would have to leave the northern camp to support them, and then...

"Advisor. New orders." Stoneham's voice hardened. "The battle is still going."

"Same plan as before," David croaked. "Their tanks are in range now. Our tanks have made several direct hits-"

"A direct hit would mean one or more of their tanks is out of action, which has so far-"

"Yeah." David waved him off.

Stoneham hissed and stormed out of the tent, no doubt wishing David was part of the military's conventional rank structure. David could almost see what the Captain wanted to do to him. He had a point – the southern hill would fall soon, along with the infantry on it. David looked around, then punched a command into the console. His instinct told him to order the infantry on the hill to retreat, something he knew Stoneham wouldn't have liked despite his desire to minimize casualties.

Tactically, that would be a disaster – the Moonies' tanks would get the high ground and the supplies. However, that infantry squad... he knew it had to survive. Why, he didn't know, but he was beyond questioning his feelings at this point.

If this was the instinct for war that a Projector was supposed to have, it didn't feel like he was doing a particularly good job with it.

* * *

**9:41 AM**

"Retreat?" screamed Lead. "Sir, if we pull back..."

She trailed off. Gordon didn't know how to feel about that. On one hand, he wanted to get the hell out of here now. On the other, they'd been running all day.

"Oh, really now." She scoffed. "Fine. I want to hear it from Stoneham myself. Or so help me, I'll-"

Movement. Gordon snapped his rifle to his face and fired several bursts, and the face disappeared behind the ruins of the outer barricades. The Moonies had arrived.

"Too late to run now!" Lead whooped. "We've got two squads against one! Toss out pineapples and kick some ass!"

Gordon's heart pounded. They were there in front of him now. Humans, not faraway monsters in the bushes and grass. These Moonies were mortal now.

Humans, not monsters. His hands gripped his gun tighter, but his reason to fight only became more clear in that moment.

"Nothing personal," he muttered under his breath, feeling some regret. "But I'm not dying to no Moonie. Gotta live to fight the real enemy."

His hands tightened around one of his hand grenades. In a smooth motion, he pulled the pin and lobbed the sphere loosely over the top of the barricade, making sure his hand didn't go too far upward in the follow-through – wouldn't do to get his arm shot, which might drop the explosive on top of him.

Some of the grenades made it past the barricade. Out of the corner of his eye, Gordon saw the other squad run past them, moving southward with the inner layer of barricades as cover, heading for the south edge of the camp.

He ducked behind the barricades with the others, and several explosions sounded off from the grenades. However, there was no indication that the Moonies had been hit, and sure enough, gunfire came out from behind the side of the hill.

"Keep 'em suppressed!" Lead yelled, and the veteran members of the squad let out war whoops, firing over the barricades. The yelling from the Moonies' squad sounded far less confident, and a swell of aggression rose up in his chest. He shouted out his best war cry, punctuating the shout with bullets.

As Gordon peered out over the barricade again, he was pulled down by Rainy, eyes wide. Then, the world around him exploded, dust and shrapnel thrown around in the air, and he kept his eyes shut.

An impact smacked him back a little. As he opened his eyes, a sticky he felt something sticky along his left side, and some odd signal from his body that he pushed out of his mind. At some level, he knew what had just happened, but-

When he tried to go over the barricade again, his body wouldn't respond. His whole fireteam was in bad shape, from the look of it, but they weren't letting the enemy know it. Ember's uniform was the bloodiest of all, but that didn't stop her from shooting. Gordon forced a roar out of his lungs, burning his throat and ribcage. Let 'em shake in fear.

The pain finally came through to his mind, and he fell over, clutching his side. Maybe his wound was worse than he'd thought... but their job was done. From around the south side of the barrier, gunshots rang out from their second squad, and the Moonie squad's screams of fear and agony accentuated the stinging bite that kept him glued to the mud below.

* * *

**Blue Moon Forward HQ (Coral Fortress), Alara Region**

**9:43 AM**

'They did not react when I ordered it.' Petrine's voice was icy cold. 'I ordered them north, away from our enemy's flanking squads. They stayed down, pinned, and were slaughtered like cattle. A disgrace to Blue Moon.'

Bashmet bit his lip. The situation had turned against them quickly. Fleeing the explosive mortar fire and sniper-accurate shelling from the Bowlheads' tanks, their southern infantry advanced too far and reacted too slow. Petrine had hoped to use them to dislodge the mortar on the hill, but now it was far too late. They were now so cornered that they couldn't even escape to defend the HQ – any survivors would be sitting ducks as they fleed. If they were smart, they would surrender.

Now, any hopes of stopping the mortar fire from the hill fell upon the tanks, and those already had their work cut out for them against Orange Star's tanks. Worst of all, their only infantry support remaining was there to destroy Orange Star's other tanks, meaning that Orange Star's anti-tank squads on the north hill would be free to tear apart their armor.

'If we retreat now...' Bashmet started.

'No. We shall continue the charge against Orange Star's tanks. We are long past the point of retreat.' It wasn't just out of scorn for her soldiers' underperformance; it was practical. Orange Star's tanks were still being directed by the enemy commander, meaning that they could snipe away at their tanks during the retreat. Two of their tanks were already damaged; most likely, they would lose everything the moment they turned their backs.

'Understood. I'll plot the best-covered route for our advance.' Bashmet returned to the satellite feeds. It was merely damage control from here, but any damage they inflicted upon their enemy here would slow them down in the next battle.

* * *

**9:44 AM**

Gordon felt hands on his side. He opened his eyes, and saw Mila Tayless holding him down, spraying some Emeraldine solution onto his wounded side.

"Hold still while Shave patches you up." Lead grinned down at him. "Looks like you got it pretty bad. Shrapnel got through your vest. Hit something you probably didn't want it to, but it looks like you're breathing just fine."

"The battle..." he croaked.

Rainy nodded. "Yeah. Lead's getting us in shelter since those tanks are still out there, but their remaining troops aren't going for us. They're making a beeline for our tanks."

"Doesn't make any sense, but whatever." Lead laughed. "If they wanna kill themselves, I won't stop 'em."

Another thought came to Gordon's head. "Shave?" he asked.

"Private Tayless had a pretty close one with that shell back there. Ain't many soldiers who can brag that they almost tanked a seventy-five." As Lead grinned, Mila looked like she'd wished she'd been hit. "So now she's Close Shave Mila. As for you, that was a pretty crazy yell you gave back there. Didn't sound like you were in pain at all."

"I try," Gordon quipped. He heard the sound of the mortar still firing somewhere close. Pound was tireless, it seemed.

"Sounded like a wild animal, you did," Rainy said. "Almost more feral than Ember."

"That's it, then. From now on, you're Wild." Lead slapped him on the shoulder, causing a wave of pain that he kept off his face. "Consider this your initiation. I'm proud to have someone like you in the squad."

* * *

**10:45 AM**

"Close one." Stoneham came in, looking even more perturbed usual. "But perhaps the least costly operation of the war for me thus far, so I can overlook the flaws in your planning."

"Does that mean you'll get off my back now?" David could barely think in his exhaustion. A few minutes ago, the last of the Blue Moon tank crews had been taken into custody by their soldiers. The battle was finally over, with a few temporary fatalities and no permanent ones. It was a result any soldier would dream of. David could hardly believe it himself.

"You could have just tossed out an order to shut up." Stoneham sighed. "I'll be frank. I had quite some difficulty seeing you as an authority before, but I'm a results man, and I can't dispute these quite excellent results. I respected you as a weapon before, Carroll, but now I can respect you as a commander, even if your methods don't quite line up in my book."

He did not smile when saying this, but David grasped that it wasn't he who Stoneham was angry with. "Stoneham. Something I should know?"

Stoneham slumped against the wall, then fumbled with his cigar case, taking the second-to-last one in his hand and fumbling with the lighter. David grabbed one from the desk and lit the large smoke for him.

"Appreciated." He took a long puff, then spoke. "It's the battle for the capital. We've just about reached the end of our borrowed time, Advisor."

David's chest grew cold. "Wait. What?"

"I'm afraid it's true, Advisor. The city's last line has been breached and the Jefferson Tower is being stormed by the enemy."

It couldn't be. "No. What about the General Command Staff? General Nell?"

"No news on their fates. I don't believe we can rely on orders from above for a few days at least." Stoneham glared past David. "We're on our own now. Our victory here is the only bright spot in all this. We've won phase one of the battle, but there's a war out there. We need to strike back."

"Which means...?" David gulped unconsciously.

"Once Blue Moon spreads out from the capital, they have a clear shot at our ass. Can't count on these rivers to block off the Moonies anymore. If we want to live, we have to reach some damn good ground." Stoneham slumped. "No rest for the wicked, advisor. The Coral Fortress must fall as quick as we can make it there, or we'll soon be drowned in a swarm of those scumbags."


	17. Venture Capital VI: Rolling Blackout

**Venture Capital VI: Rolling Blackout**

**Jefferson Tower**

**December 14, 10:50 AM  
**

The armored chopper swerved as it rose, batted around by the raging winds. Below, the Jefferson Tower rocked under artillery fire, the entrances already breached and battle raging deep within its halls. Even further underground, the citizens of Jefferson City were making their choice – stay and accept their new masters, stay and fight with the resistance, or evacuate in the shelter's transport copters. By the terms of the Houston Accords, Blue Moon was not allowed to attack the evacuation choppers, but worse things had been done in the excitement of seizing a capital, even a regional one. By all accounts, many civilians were making for the choppers, but there was only room inside for a few.

The snow had died down now, giving way to driving rain. Inside the chopper, General Vance and General Carpenter sat with their guards, tensely holding onto their seatbelts.

"We should not have let them go!" General Vance spoke in reference to Captain Allen and his equally psychotic OF, Jackal, who had disappeared on a supposed 'direct scouting opportunity' just before the battle was clearly lost. "If they're cornered, they could decide to defect to the enemy!"

"Patience is a virtue, Vance." General Foster, communicating with them through the transceiver, put her hands together, a dark twinkle in her eye. "Allen and Jackal are killers. They thrive on situations like these."

"Bah." Vance fell silent, glancing nervously at the swirling rain. "I suppose our first worry is escape from the battle zone."

Silence for a few moments. On the other screen, General Bernstein scratched his head. "And there is still no news of Nell."

Vance growled, but said nothing. Even General Foster's usually smug face showed a sliver of concern. The silence continued; one of the guards hung his head, drawing the ire of Vance. "Don't be stupid, soldier. The notion that one person can win a war is laughable anyways."

Allen's tactics had caught Blue Moon by surprise, but the enemy's commanders were not fooled for long. There was a simple answer to the riddle of how Orange Star could maintain such a counterattack despite being backed against the wall: they couldn't. The attack had staggered Blue Moon, as their forward units had mobilized for assault rather than siege, but that didn't mean their back units were in the same predicament. Indeed, once Blue Moon had been pushed back to the siege lines, Orange Star's assault had sputtered out. From the looks of it, all Allen had done was make the battle for Jefferson City bloodier.

Foster had disagreed with that notion. "More of our soldiers died, yes, but they would soon have been captured or dead anyways thanks to Blue Moon. This way, we took more of them with us. Do note that Allen didn't order them all forward – after all, someone needs to organize the resistance once the city has been occupied."

"A resistance that will lead to nothing," grumbled Vance under his breath, but Foster heard him.

"Have more faith in our people, General. Not every civilian down there is a coward. True, we have weakened under Nell, but our nation's spirit stands strong. If nothing else, this is a wake-up call for our people. Now that Cosmo Land has fallen, every able bodied man and woman will stand up and do their part instead of hiding behind the nation's finest."

Carpenter stared at the screen. "Foster. You've given up on Cosmo Land already?"

"We'll be using Falcon Island as a foothold for satellite links and evacuation of our remaining soldiers." Foster gave them her best Baba Yaga grin, making her artificially-young face look quite menacing. "Until Nell's return, President Drapela has placed General Bernstein in charge of the military details."

Bernstein spoke again. "I have delegated the overall national defense plan to General Foster. We have decided to focus our efforts on the mainland and strike while the iron is hot, so to speak."

Vance and Carpenter spoke at once, neither audible above the other's words as they grew louder and louder. Eventually, Vance shut up, looking sullen, and Carpenter spoke.

"You propose to invade Blue Moon on the mainland, then. Am I understanding you properly?"

"On the contrary, the invasion already commenced at 0600 hours this morning," Foster said neutrally. "Hm? I did send you a message to that effect."

"We were a little preoccupied," snapped Vance.

A bump was heard on the outside of the T-Copter, causing Vance to jump. "Just some turbulence," the pilot said. "I'll tell you when to panic."

Foster sighed. "Blue Moon didn't expect this move. They see us as little weaklings who cling to each other and always try to do the hero thing. Well, let's see them defend their homeland when the bulk of their military is committed to Cosmo Land. Did you know that our counterattack has already pushed them back to the border?"

Silence. Vance sneezed into his handkerchief. General Carpenter stared down at her tablet, scrolling through the images of the battle's lines. They were now flying over Blue Moon territory; the bullets would start coming at them anytime now. Carpenter wouldn't admit it to the other generals, but she sorely wished Nell was there. She shut her eyes, trying not to think of the people they had failed.

The people they were leaving to suffer or die in what had weeks before been her favorite city.

* * *

**Blue Moon Forward HQ**

**10:52 AM**

"Let 'em go."

Lieutenant Nyberg blinked: that hadn't been what he'd expected from CO-Colonel Grit. Perhaps a "I'll deal with them later," or more likely an "oh, that's nice."

"Sir?" he repeated. "Let them go? But..."

"Now, I know for a fact that Gen'ral Bernstein and Gen'ral Foster ain't on that box. Foster's a crazy one; if the rumors are true and she's back, it don't bode well for us or them. Bernstein plays the long game – he ain't near as good as Nell, but unshackled by the two head clowns, he'd be a bit of a problemo."

Nyberg blinked. "But if we don't know who is onboard... there could be someone important, maybe an OF or such-"

"Nah. I don't feel anything from that big flying box. That being said, you can't say the guys up top that tower were doin' too good at running this whole shebang. I figure we want people who can't plan well in charge of the enemy, not the unknown factors that could take their place."

"They're incompetent generals, so you'd rather have them alive than dead?" Nyberg paraphrased.

"Great job, Hadrian. You got it. If Frosty was fightin' someone b'sides Orange Star, he'd say the same thing." Grit leaned back in his chair – Hadrian saw his eyes flicking between the 6 screens above and around him. It was the most work he'd seen his CO do since he'd been assigned as his advisor.

Grit noticed. "When the battle looks won, that's when there's the most uncertain-ness. Orange Star's got hidden guys everywhere – let 'em go now and that might mean more of ours die later, while lockin' down the city."

Nyberg looked at his screens. The Bowlheads were still putting up quite a fight even though it was hopeless. Once again, Grit's intuition about the situation had proven true. It was almost scary how accurate it was, but Nyberg reminded himself that Grit had once been part of Orange Star – it was natural that he knew how they worked.

"And Nell's disappeared." That was the one piece of bad news to Hadrian, though it looked almost like Grit was relieved. Their failure to capture her would have dire consequences later, he imagined.

"I didn't expect we would anyhow. That woman's good, and she knows the tunnel systems." He sighed. "But the young lass Sasha insisted on goin' after her, so there you go."

"What _do_ you think of Colonel Sasha, sir?" Nyberg hadn't gotten much of a sense of it from the conversations he'd listened to them have.

Grit shrugged. "Nice girl. Kind of pushes herself too hard. She's a great leader to the troops, but I got the feeling things'll end badly for her someday."

That wasn't something Nyberg had heard Grit say before. "Sir?"

"Just a feelin', Hadrian. Ramblings of an old cowboy. I don't b'lieve in prophecy except if it's a CO Power. Pretty sure there's an OF out there who can do that, actually, but it sure as spit ain't me."

Grit paused, frowning. Lieutenant Nyberg heard the noise through the Comnet at the exact same time – it could only be described as noise. He felt the flashes of death, received the jumbled visions and sounds of soldiers on the verge of death. In a second, Nyberg cut himself off from the Comnet... it was too overwhelming.

"Sir..." The Lieutenant realized he was face-down on his desk. "What..."

"Hold a sec." Silence filled the Command Room for almost a minute as Nyberg scrolled through the console's tracking screens. One of their squads in the Jefferson Tower had been wiped out, and as the second minute began, signals from another squad began to disappear. Their satellites couldn't see inside the Jefferson Tower, but with the chaos in the Comnet and squads in such a manner, there was only one conclusion to be drawn.

"Well, Hadrian. Looks like we've found the other enemy commander." Grit stood, and Hadrian knew not to argue. Orange Star would only have placed an experienced OF in charge of the capital's defense while Nell was absent. Their soldiers on the front lines would stand no chance... but Hadrian knew that no matter who it was, they'd be no match if Grit got serious.

He really, really hoped Grit was going to get serious.

* * *

**11:40 AM**

Jackal giggled under her breath in the shadows, knowing her voice was just as inaudible to the Moonies as her body was invisible to them in the office room's darkness. This was despite the flashlight they slowly shone across the room, as well as the night-vision goggles worn by the team's leaders. The flashlight traced across her body, crouched atop the cubicle walls in the center of the room. They saw nothing, of course – her powers made sure they could not see, hear, or even smell her as long as she remained relatively motionless.

The soldiers in the squad fanned out, searching the room – they traveled in pairs of two, one covering the path ahead, one covering the back. That would not save them. After all, her _everything_ was also in the room. All she had to do was attack when he told her to. That was the eternal constant of her life.

A crashing noise sounded at the edge of the room, and all eyes turned to look – all except the eyes of the two soldiers at the far end of the room from where the noise had occurred. These were veteran soldiers, not simple recruits. They knew that turning all eyes to the same point would be a tactical mistake.

Of course, Jackal had expected this. In terms of Breakcom ability, she was ranked as an OF, signifying that she needed to enter a trance to project her Comnet. However, this was not strictly true; as a matter of fact, she was capable of projecting a small Comnet, capable of linking 3 or 4 others, while lucid.

Captain Ellis Allen received her signal, and triggered the explosives he had placed on the floor above, collapsing the ceiling on the four soldiers closest to the door. As the others scrambled for cover, Jackal dived off her perch, claws of energy emerging from her fists. Two of the soldiers were torn apart by her first strike; the final two pulled their rifles to the ready and let loose a flurry of bullets at her.

She leaped up into the ceiling, then pushed off it and dived into the soldiers, tearing one in two with her claws. The other dodged her blow, backing off into the room's corner and readying his radio-

Only to be shot in the head by Sergeant Tyler Plaise, who had been concealed in a hidden closet in the back of the room. Captain Ellis Allen emerged after him, and Jackal's heart leaped at the sight. She bounded over, leaning into his nails as he scratched the back of her neck.

Mentally, she received a warning. Another squad incoming... no, two. At Allen's direction, she leaped onto the roof instead of the cubicle; as always, her master's orders were wise, as she saw that the incoming Blue Moon soldiers did not enter the room. Rather, they were preparing RPGs.

Allen gave her the signal, and she leaped off the roof, diving into the mass of Moonies. As they stabbed at her with their bayonets, trying to break through the shell of energy surrounding her, she sliced one RPG wielder's arm off and caught the weapon with her other hand; then, she pounced two paces down the hall and fired straight into the crowd.

As the soldiers scattered and dived out of the way, she pounced on them, ripping and tearing away. The ones that stood again were quickly taken out.

* * *

"Not all OFs are this good," Allen drawled to Sergeant Plaise. As he spoke, he fired his pistol, putting a bullet into the Moonie squad leader's brain before he could radio for help. "She's a Colonel for more than just her command aptitude."

"You mean, *your* command aptitude?" Plaise countered.

Allen chuckled. The man knew how to play suck-up, but it wasn't entirely untrue. Jackal was a tactical savant, but Allen handled the overall battle strategy, as the poor girl didn't know how to handle the wounded and dying too well.

Yes, it had been Allen who had come up with this game of making their way down the Jefferson Tower, hunting down Blue Moon soldiers while they were at it. They could have escaped by air or through the tunnels over an hour ago, but his charge wanted to have a little fun; he couldn't say no to such a sweet request, especially when he was thirsty for a little blood as well.

It did play into his strategy of bleeding Blue Moon out, but that was a secondary concern.

Through Jackal's small Comnet, he received a message from his other confidant on the roof: 'Got something on the sensors. We got a Breakcom on approach to the tower by air, ETA ten minutes.'

'Right on. I'm fixin' to leave soon. Better close up shop, Ili. You know where to meet us.' Allen nodded to Plaise, and they walked out into the hall, paying no mind to the scraps and blood staining the floor and now their pants.

Allen put his hand on Jackal's shoulder, rubbing it affectionately. The girl looked up from her art, and stared into his eyes. He leaned in close and whispered to her: "The Moonies are coming to ruin our fun. Let's find a place to stay the night, okay? We can hunt again at dawn."

She nodded and stood, closing her eyes. Through the Comnet, Allen watched her look over the map of the tower, searching for the best escape route.

The Moonies would have blocked off the stairs and elevator by now; there were probably hundreds of them in the lower floors. Allen was on the fifth floor, so the best stairs to take would be...

Jackal's conclusions matched his: the Jefferson Tower would remain a haven for them until the Moonies turned off the tower's interference field, exposing Jackal's Breakcom signature for their satellites to track. They would have to enter the tunnels by then to remain undetected, but the Tower would be safe for at least another hour. They had plenty of time to round to the Tower's other side, well away from the pattern of carnage they had caused.

Allenn, nodded, then walked ahead down the Tower's tiled halls. Their enemy would be here soon, but they'd be long gone by then, ready to coordinate the resistance. And those old bumpkin generals had doubted him! Well, all except Foster, who was the oldest of all. The bitch scared even him, but it was a good thing he had her support in this. From now on, though, he had to stay out of her sight. She was a sharp old bat. _Why, if I get careless, she might discover __that_

_**Boom.**_

A spike of fear went through Captain Allen – not only his own, but also from Jackal through the Comnet. Allen looked left and right, mentally piecing together the events of the last five seconds.

Tyler Plaise had jumped between him and the outer walls, throwing his arms outward. At the same time, _something_ had broken in through the wall, flying into the Sergeant's body at the ribcage with the sound of a sonic boom. Plaise was alive and still breathing, but had been thrown back. How had Plaise survived that shot? Simple:

_...my two bodyguards are unregistered Projectors. _

Allen stared at the wall, mentally cursing his error. He'd expected that the Moonies would have sent Sasha, their special forces commander, to hunt him and Jackal down. It would have made the most sense.

Instead, the one to come after him had been Grit.

* * *

Grit stared through the scope of the BSVK sniper rifle, mounted in the open side window of his transport helicopter. He frowned; what kind of power had that soldier had used to block his bullet? Was that man the OF he was to target, then? He'd heard that the OF was a young woman.

Thinking about it any further would be a waste of time. He peered through the scope; as with all military HQ structures, the satellites were blocked from viewing inside the Jefferson Tower thanks to the Cartoulli Field reinforcing the building's structure, but the field did nothing to block Grit's powers. Some might call it X-ray vision, but it wasn't exactly sight. Rather, it was an extra sense, a _knowledge_ of what lay on the other side of the wall.

The same applied to his sense of the shot's trajectory, though _that_ was also projected within his vision. Even the immense recoil of his anti-material rifle was dampened away by the B-field that came from his powers. He readied the sniper rifle again, taking aim at the female among the group inside the Tower. If he shot her, he'd soon see whether she was the OF.

The lights flickered in the helicopter at the moment Grit pulled the trigger. He blinked; the shot had gone wide by almost ten centimeters. His power compensated for natural interference, though, which meant...

Grit stared through the scope, his sight automatically marking any hostile targets. There it was: a female figure on the roof of the Tower, staring him down. He didn't know how, but he knew that she had been responsible for what had happened to the helicopter.

"Just a lightning impact, sir," the pilot reported. "The chopper's EM-shielded against stuff like that."

Grit understood: it hadn't been the lightning that had knocked them off course, but the change in heat in the air from the strike. At such an extreme range, even the slightest deviation in the helicopter's course would cause a massive difference in the impact site.

His hands had already readied the rifle for another shot. The Jefferson Tower was a large building, but if the OF and her cohorts found an intersection or 90-degree turn in the hallway, that would give them a path right out of Grit's range. By the time he got closer to the Tower, they'd probably be at the center or on the other side of the building, and his rifle couldn't shoot through *that* many reinforced walls.

He pulled the trigger again, and this time, his bullet hit the target, though not dead-center; the woman in the building was hit in the arm. She rolled over for a bit, and one of the men ran over and hoisted her over his shoulder. Judging from the fact that her arm hadn't been torn half off by the bullet, he could tell that she was a Breakcom. What did that make the others with her, then? Were all three of these Orange Star soldiers Projectors that he hadn't heard about before?

The next bullet was ready, but Grit paused at the sound of the pilot cursing. "Something's gone wrong with the blasted..." The pilot switched the electronic guidance systems on and off. "Sir, we've got a problem."

"Told Frosty he shouldn't 've cut funding to air R&D," Grit drawled.

"It wasn't the lightning! Wouldn't have been such a gap between the lightning and the short-out... damn it!" The pilot kicked at the controls, but it really wasn't Grit's problem; he could still adjust for it. Grit returned to the scope.

He was still in command through the Comnet, despite the strain it put on his to use his powers personally and globally at once. Through it, he could tell that another squad had made contact with the OF and her cohorts. After sending them a warning to be careful and keep their distance, he aimed his rifle at the second male inside the building. When he'd fired his first shot, the other male had jumped in the way. Grit felt the maelstrom eat away at his body as he expended power into the barrel of the gun; perhaps he really was stretching himself too thin, but he could worry about that later. _Time to see just how special this guy actually is._

* * *

Captain Allen knew he was a sitting duck in the large storage room, where rows and rows of boxes and rations counted as jack-all when it came to cover; if Grit's power could give his bullets enough force to shoot through the Tower's outer wall, then it wouldn't take much more effort to shoot through the room's wall as well.

They had almost been at an intersection in the hallway, which would have allowed them to move deeper into the Tower and out of Grit's range. However, no doubt under orders from Grit, a squad of Blue Moon soldiers had been there waiting for them. Allen almost laughed – Grit had maneuvered them right into a corner. Allen was busy setting up his explosives against the wall at the northeast corner of the room; since there was no other exit right now, he'd damn well make his own.

Ellis Allen always carried high explosives on his person. Throughout his life, he'd often ended up in situations where he had needed them, so once he got into the habit of taking them with him, he'd never encountered a reason not to.

'Hurry! I'm interfering with their helicopter, but the sniper's about to fire again!' Lieutenant Ilijana Ercegovic was his eye on the roof. Her powers had proven useful to him time and again; it had damn well saved Jackal's life this time. She was there beside him, clutching onto him as the Emeraldine medical wrap around her arm somehow failed to fully stop the bleeding. The bullet had gone through Jackal's arm and out the other side, shredding the muscles inside as it went. A pang of hatred went through Allen's heart: that had been a bad move on CO-Colonel Grit's part. Nobody hurt his sweet monster – nobody. Whether Grit knew it or not, he was now Captain Allen's number-one enemy.

Allen finished with the explosives, then stumbled with Jackal over to the northwest corner of the room, behind several metal shelves and rows of boxes. On the south side of the room, Plaise contined his firefight against the squad. Allen could actually have Plaise exit the room right now and cut them all to shreds... but that wouldn't do. If he did that, Grit would discover Plaise's ability... and then he would know precisely how to kill him. That wouldn't do at all.

Allen reached into his pocket, removing the detonator-

And then the room was rocked by explosives. For a second, Allen thought he had accidentally triggered them early, but that hadn't been his doing. He saw through the Comnet that across the room Plaise had stumbled, almost falling over from the shockwaves-

* * *

_**Boom.**_

Jackal's throat burned from screaming. Her _everything_ had been sitting with her behind a metal shelf, ready to trigger the explosives, but then the shelf had been torn open and half of him had been launched tumbling into the air, spurting blood all over her-

Her _everything's_ blood was all over her. All over her. Everywhere. Spreading faster. Faster.

A crackling. "Captain! Are you okay? When the Comnet went down, I felt... Captain! Captain, please respond!"

Jackal couldn't comprehend those words. She couldn't comprehend anything at all.

* * *

Atop the Jefferson Tower, Ilijana blinked away tears, terror overtaking her body. Captain Allen had been shot, and she knew the culprit. She glared over at the speck on the horizon, the existence that her powers told her was a helicopter with a Breakcom aboard. She could feel his eye land on her, his sniper rifle lining up to take a shot.

"Take your best shot, shithound," she whispered. Someday, this would just be another example of why the whole population of Blue Moon had to be destroyed. Now, though... she could feel the power building up inside her, the hatred and rage. She didn't care what would happen to her body – if Allen was truly dead, then she had no reason to go on. After this, people would know about her powers, and with that... she didn't want to know her next commander's plans for her.

Which was another reason she had to do this. There was one principal witness, and if she killed him, then even if Captain Allen was dead... she might have a way to keep her powers secret after all. Yes, there was only one course of action for her to take.

Blue Moon's CO Grit would die today.

* * *

Sergeant Tyler Plaise roared in rage, charging out into the hallway, surprising the Blue Moon soldiers outside. The soldiers opened fire – one launched a rocket at Plaise, but it missed, and Plaise felt the shrapnel bounce off his body. He was lucky that hadn't hit him – that would have been bad – but unlike normal humans, he didn't have to worry about shrapnel... or bullets.

As the Blue Moon soldiers dropped dead or wounded from his bullets, he knew it was too late – a look of realization was plastered on the squad leader's face. They would have been linked to a Comnet, meaning that their commander likely knew what his power was by now.

More Blue Moon soldiers were coming, rounding the corner. Plaise knew they had to get out of here fast. If Blue Moon was smart, they would be wiring explosives either above or below the storage room. Then, there would be no rescuing the man who had saved his life.

There wasn't much left of that man at the moment – both legs and one arm had been blown off, one lung was punctured, and he lay in a pool of his own blood – but he was still struggling to breathe as Jackal wailed over him.

Plaise looked around frantically at the crates, hoping for medical supplies. All he found were food, rope, construction and repair equipment... he couldn't make out the rest because at that moment, all the lights began to flicker on and off repeatedly. He knew whose fault that was. He hoped she wasn't doing anything stupid.

"Excuse me." Plaise spun around, readying his rifle, but the man who had appeared in front of him had no visible weapon. His voice was calm and even, yet a little creepy. "It seems you're in need of a medic. Perhaps I can help."

Grit fired the last bullet in his magazine at the woman on the roof, but right before he pulled the trigger, the woman disappeared in a flash of lightning. As he pulled his eye away from the scope, he heard a *clunk* on the side of the helicopter. The electronically-locked door fizzled, then opened, letting in a rush of swirling air that almost bowled Grit over.

Grit's revolver was out in a flash, and as a shape appeared in the doorway, he fired out the door (bringing a shout of dismay from the pilot). As he'd had no time to aim, the shot merely grazed the figure, which swung inside the helicopter, her own pistol at the ready. The door closed behind her.

"Howdy." Grit stared the woman down. He couldn't make out her build or features under her thick winter uniform and helmet, but he could tell by her stance she was angry, distracted. Under normal circumstances, she would hardly register as a threat... but this was a cramped space and he was a gunslinger, not a brawler. _Now if Maxie were here... _Grit inadvertently chuckled.

"What the hell is so funny?" the woman demanded. "Do you enjoy shooting people into little chunks that much?"

"Hate to say it, but I kinda do." Grit shrugged. "From your question, I reckon you're a Projector type person, not a Breakcom."

"You shot Captain Allen." Her voice broke. "He might be dead. I'll never, ever forgive you!"

"I never ask for forgiveness," Grit said. "Well, I don't b'lieve I've seen a power like yours before. You got control over electric stuff, don't ya?"

"You weren't supposed to know. Which is another reason I've got to kill you!"

Something was wrong. "Never seen a Projector so devoted to one guy. You're not a normal weapon of the military, aren't you?"

The woman fired her pistol, missing Grit and blowing a small hole in the wall behind him. "I am not a weapon! I am human!" She fired again – Grit watched her pistol's direction and dodged the bullet. "Captain Allen made me human and I won't let you take that away from me!" With her left hand, she pulled out a pocket knife, then she charged him.

Grit stepped out of the way of her strike, then fired his revolver – the bullet went through her B-field and struck through her shoulder, causing her to drop her pistol. She dropped the knife as well, grasping for Grit – he stepped out of the way, but her hand brushed his shirt as she stumbled into the wall.

Pain surged through Grit like he'd been hit by lightning, and he fell to a knee, gasping for breath. The smell of burning flesh filled the air.

_Guess this brings the situation from bad to real bad. _Under these circumstances, he couldn't even grapple against her. Air travel had never been his thing, but after this, he really doubted

Grit's arms didn't obey at first, but after a few seconds, he could move again. His adversary had reached her pistol again, and fired off three more bullets – two struck him in the side, but thankfully, he felt nothing important rupture. The pistol she was holding didn't look like the same specialty model that most Breakcoms had, but since her power was electricity, she was likely propelling the bullets with her power, like a coilgun.

Air rushed up at Grit through the bullet holes she had made. He stumbled up, holding his side with one hand – with the other, his revolver was up and firing once, twice, three times. All three were direct hits. His enemy's body jerked and blood emerged, but she didn't seem to feel any pain in her rage. Break energy covered the wounds in a second, and she stood again, pushing off the ground in a Breakdash.

Grit fired again, but his enemy's Breakdash tilted the helicopter around in the air, and the shot only grazed her. She crashed into him, wrapping her arms around him, and then Grit was engulfed in pain and flashing lights yet again.

The pain lasted for what seemed like an eternity.

Then, it suddenly stopped. As consciousness fully returned, Grit heard a change in the noises around him. The helicopter's rotors didn't sound right. He looked out the window, and the clouds were tilted at a strange angle.

His enemy's face had gone slack with exhaustion. She was trying to put out more energy, but evidently, she had worn herself out using so much power. Grit reached out with his Break senses – there was another reason her attack was no longer working. His enemy had exhausted the ambient Break energy around them, and she had evidently used up all the energy stored in her body.

"It's too late..." she hissed, victory in her eyes. "I'm not getting out of this alive, but neither are you."

Grit struggled, finally breaking free as she released her grip on him, laughing. "Take a look. Take a look! We're going down now." The gunslinger staggered over to the cockpit – the pilot was unconscious, two bullet holes in his chest, one foot down on one of the pedals and the cyclic pitched at a bad angle. The helicopter's path led it right down into a skyscraper – there was no time to evade.

Grit shrugged and stumbled over to the crash restraints, strapping himself in. He had been in worse situations than this before – all he felt were the lingering pain and a slight sense of foolishness for letting himself get in this situation. Against a real opponent, it might've cost him his life.

"Sorry, lass, but it'll take a lot more than this to get rid o' folk like you and me."

* * *

**12:00 PM**

Down in the tunnels, Lieutenant Nemorov noticed the change in the soldiers ahead of him immediately. They looked almost like they'd emerged from a trance, sitting down and holding their heads. Nemorov held up a hand, a signal to his men to stop.

"What's wrong?" asked Sergeant Maksimov, the leader of his 2nd squad, from next to him.

"Their Comnet has been cut off." Nemorov repeated those words into his own Comnet, and Sasha's words came back almost instantly.

'Something happened to Grit? I wouldn't have imagined him to possess such... poor judgment.' Her voice was quite different when angry – it was cold, dripping with menace. 'He was deployed to assassinate the enemy's OF. The OF was a Colonel, so we judged that sending Dmitri would be too risky. However... this is ill news.'

Nemorov had heard only a couple things about Dmitri, the OF under Grit's command. Sasha continued: 'I'll inform Dmitri to take control – our sweep through the tunnels and up the Jefferson Tower will be disrupted without a Comnet. Lieutenant, continue the operation as before. I'll inform you should any alterations become necessary.'

'Understood.' Nemorov nodded. Blue Moon had long known of Orange Star's tunnel network under Jefferson City. However, it had been quite a coup that they had found the tunnels under the mall. There was still no sign of Nell, but securing the tunnels would deny their use to the resistance. It was likely that many Bowlheads had already taken to the tunnels. It would be best to dislodge them before they got too comfortable.

* * *

"Identify yourself." Sergeant Plaise felt his voice grow shaky as he stared the newcomer down. The man was broad, with dark skin, white hair, and dark, piercing eyes; he wore a wide trench coat and gloves. An aura of menace radiated from him, but Plaise couldn't detect a Breakcom signature. Could this man be another Projector? Or perhaps, he was something else altogether.

"Ask your captain when he awakens. We have met before, after all." The white-haired man strode over; Jackal growled at him and pounced, but as she leapt off the ground, her eyes widened and she fell sprawling to the floor behind him.

"Apologies, miss, but time is too short for your antics." The white-haired man knelt down next to Captain Allen and muttered some words under his breath.

As he opened his hand, Plaise saw a ball of shadowy energy appear inside it; a power that Plaise knew was volatile, dangerous. He stepped forward to intervene but the trench-coat man held up his other hand, and Plaise felt a sudden terror root him to the ground.

The black energy crackled, then expanded into a bubble around Captain Allen's body. Inside the bubble, Plaise saw something that couldn't possibly be.

His Captain's torso and limbs were slowly taking form once more. Within ten seconds, Allen was breathing again. The white-haired man slumped, visibly tired from the exertion; still, Plaise knew it would be a bad idea to jump him even though his back was turned.

"Watch over your captain. I must heal this one as well." He turned to Jackal, who approached him, an expression of curiosity on her face. The man bowed his head slightly, releasing a smaller bubble of black energy into her bullet wound.

With his work done, the man turned and walked toward the door. "Your associate has removed the sniper's threat for now. I will divert the remaining soldiers away from your position while their Command Network remains offline. Once your captain is able to move, take him to safety."

Plaise blinked. "Wait. Why are you doing this for us? At least answer me this."

"Again, your captain will have a good idea of why." The man stepped out the door without even turning around, and then Plaise fell on his hands and knees, coughing as he regained his mobility.

"Hey. That man... not so bad." Jackal gripped Plaise's arm, and he hugged her in relief. Thanks to their benefactor, their captain was making a miraculous recovery. He knew it would have been wiser to remain alert – there was no guarantee that Blue Moon wouldn't enter at any minute – but their irrational actions didn't prove fatal, and as they pulled away from each other, they heard Captain Allen cough. Jackal ran over and embraced him; Plaise resisted the urge. He had to keep watch.

"Wha... damn. Hey, Plaise! What's going on with my body right now? Are we in heaven? Man, that limpdick at the gates ought to be more selective."

"We're alive right now." Plaise almost wept at the sound of his captain's voice. "All thanks to that man who came in to save us."

Allen looked down at the energy surrounding him. "Lemme guess. Tall and big, white hair, dark skin. Probably a trench coat. I get all that right?"

Plaise blinked. "Yes, sir. Exactly. Who was that?"

Allen started to laugh, but burst out coughing. "Man. That's right... where you grew up, you wouldn't have heard, would you? Probably what that guy was counting on. He's only the #1 most wanted man on the whole bloody planet."

"That was General Hawke?" Plaise didn't understand. "If he's so infamous, how did he get into the Jefferson Tower? Why did he help us?"

"Just a favor to an old friend, I guess." Allen's eye twinkled. "Nah, he's got a motive. He's playing some kind o' game here, but he knows I won't spill his secret. Honor among thieves and all that... restitution for a favor I did for 'im a while back."

"And that's the last favor he owes you, right?" Plaise tensed; that man was bad business. "Permission to go after him?"

Allen laughed again; this time, his lungs held out. "The four of us together couldn't take that man. All that power... he's what Yellow Comet wanted to turn you into, Plaise. Remember? The emperor's little project?"

Tyler clenched his fists. "...yeah. Did Green Earth put Hawke through something like that? If they did, no wonder he went after them."

"Who knows? The past never really came up between us." Allen seemed enraptured by the sight of his arm slowly coming back into being. "Where's Ilijana?"

"She..." Plaise looked down. "We haven't heard anything from her."

"She's too feisty to die against that sniper." Contrary to his words, Allen actually looked perturbed. "First thing's first: we take the chance Hawke bought us and hightail it outta here. If Blue Moon's got Ili, then we go get her back while the Moonies are still boozin' it up. I'll give up killing before I let that traitor yokel haul her off to be their guinea pig."

* * *

**3:50 PM**

From the tent that acted as Orange Star's forward HQ, David Carroll stared through binoculars down to the southeast. Down south, the river split several times, breaking into a series of smaller creeks that were nonetheless still too deep for the vehicles to ford. The satellites didn't lie – there were several tank platoons across the river, while Dale's one tank group was still ragged from the earlier battle.

And beyond those tanks lay the Lost Fortress, surrounded by those splits in the river in such a way that there was only one clear route to attack it. Even then, David wouldn't be able to rest.

"The Lost Fortress is a nice position and all, but we'll be crushed by the enemy's numbers if we try to hold here." Stoneham looked visibly more agitated with all his cigars gone. "In contrast, the Coral Fortress has an abandoned weapons factory nearby, and it seems Blue Moon have not managed to repair it yet. Now, we have a trump card who can do that quite handily, of course."

"Captain Andy, our OF." David nodded.

"CO now." Stoneham gave a quick nod. "He's on his way here as we speak; once we've taken the Lost Fortress, we'll link up with his fresh troops and have them lead the attack on the Coral Fortress. Well, that's the theory, anyhow."

David shut his eyes; Stoneham's subtle pronunciations of doom weren't helping. "Can't afford to think about that."

Stoneham shrugged irritably. "It's up to you, Advisor. Now, we did link up with an artillery group that was separated from Andy's force. They're positioned in an advance position, ready for your orders."

David began to enter orders into his command tablet – it was the closest he had to a command console here. "The enemy OF... Petrine's inside the Coral Fortress."

"You and Andy will make short work of her." Stoneham didn't sound convinced. "Well, that's the theory-"

"I've never fought an enemy Breakcom before. Has Andy ever fought one?" David asked. "Like, not just a spar. I mean, has he ever engaged an enemy Breakcom in direct combat?"

In the split second before he turned away to busy himself with his tablet, Stoneham's expression said it all.

* * *

**Clara Foster**

Rank: General

Affiliation: Orange Star

Skill: Due to her vast command experience, equal attack power to a standard CO. Boosted counterattacks. Defensive command is comparable to an OF.

Command Tactic: Scorched Earth (available every 6 turns)

Only usable in Orange Star territory. All enemy-controlled cities are treated as neutral during their next turn, and enemy units on cities lose 1 HP.

An elderly general making heavy use of anti-aging technology and medicine. Utilitarian hard-liner who will make any sacrifice to win.

Hit: Football (both American and International)

Miss: Golf

"Lesser evils lead to a greater good."


End file.
